Hate This and I'll Love You
by TheProblematique
Summary: A contagion aboard the Enterprise brings everyone's true emotions to the surface, even those buried under layers of logic. Based on TOS episode "The Naked Time".
1. Prologue

**Hate This and I'll Love You – by The Problematique**

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**Prologue

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**There is something to be said about the human brain's capacity for emotion. Whether it be in reaction to stimuli or merely the thought which evokes a response, the intricacies of what we call the _mind_ and the process of _feeling_ are, as of yet, undiscovered. Oh sure, hormones figure in there somewhere, but even at the current Stardate it hasn't all yet been precisely and properly explained.

Captain Kirk's mind was no exception to this idea, in that it was not precisely or properly explained. A certain first officer might point out that Jim's mind was, in fact, _less_ precisely explained than other minds, and attempting to do so was very, very difficult, probably not something said first officer would recommend (he would, in fact, discourage it) to anyone who wasn't a half-Human half-Vulcan Commander named Spock.

Jim would put it differently, and simply declare that his mind was awesomely original.

But suffice it to say that, despite varying and opposing opinions, Jim's mind _was_ extraordinary. Intelligent (to genius levels), compassionate, quick-thinking, strong, selfless (to very _dangerous_ levels), occasionally impulsive and unafraid of, well, almost anything (including but not limited to: personal boundries, death, fear itself, the dark, asteroid fields, flying without means of propulsion, exploration of all and any kinds, adventure, ridicule, being turned down repeatedly, heights, and different, new or unusual concepts, people or sexual positions).

The fact was that Jim's mind was spectacularly singular.

And it became obsessed with Spock.

Because Spock's mind was brilliant and bright like sunlight sparkling off waves, and it was also vast and fascinatingly alien like the deepest ocean. And Jim's Problem began with this thought, and all subsequent thoughts like it, and all the poetic metaphors used to illustrate them, and the increased frequency of _those _(both the thoughts and the metaphors) and the way these thoughts _always_ had to do with Spock.

The Problem, as he so lovingly thought of it, had certainly begun with Spock's mind, yes, Spock's mind as a challenge and a test, a goal he wanted to reach, a dam he wanted to flood, a question he wanted answered, a balance to tempt, a response to provoke… as an ocean he wanted to explore.

But it didn't stop there. The sneaky little bastard.

With (increasingly desperate) metaphors The Problem settled in Jim's consciousness. It got comfortable, in there. It grew. It thrived on Jim's concentration and focus. It made itself known the instant Jim had a second of free time. He took to working three times more than was healthy for a Captain and the thing still found a way to creep up on him when he least expected it: when he was forced to go off-duty by his CMO, while he slept, in the shower... once, when he was eating a cucumber salad. It ruined vegetables for Jim for _ever_.

The way a glint in Spock's eye told Jim Spock was happy (although he might deny that later if asked, something Jim invariably did, and then nagged him about). The way a raised eyebrow could mean five different things when combined with a slightly upturned mouth or pursed lips. The twitch of a muscle announce anger, the tightening of the jaw, sorrow.

Then Jim caught himself watching Spock's jaw without cause to look for sadness. Just because. Or looking at Spock's ears, with their varying shades of green, and grinning like an _idiot_ for no reason whatsoever.

It didn't properly register until the day he caught himself staring, open-mouthed and drooling, at Spock's naked torso while training in the gym. This _actually_ happened, quite literally, and Jim was shocked and delighted to discover it wasn't just an expression: you _could_ honest to God_ drool_ over someone (although he wasn't quite so skippy about having to change his shirt, or about Bones laughing hysterically until someone had to slap him out of it). It eventually got pretty embarrassing… to say the _least_…

But it didn't prepare Jim for the many trials to come, and perhaps only because his mind was exceptional did they all live to talk about it.

Or not…

… talk about it. They did _live_, of course.

They just… might choose not to discuss it.

They could think about it, though.

Anyway… this is the story of the time when everyone's true emotions were brought to the surface.

For a day.

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**This is just the beggining.**

**Muahahahahaha!**

**As I said in the description, this will be based on the MTF AWESOME! TOS episode called "The Naked Time" (yeah that's right, that's what it's called ;), which I rewatched a couple of days ago and let me tell you people, is MADE of AMAZING and COATED with INCREDIBLE. It has everything, and I mean everything (with the exception of Chekov! But I'll write him in here, this is a Reboot Rewrite after all!).**

**Anyways, did you know that the number of reviews eventually becomes directly proportional to the speed with which the next chapter is uploaded??? Fact of nature, I have nothing to do about it! ****Isn't that _interesting_****?**

***cackles***

**I just love to cackle.**


	2. Frozen There

**Thank you so much for the feedback****, you guys!!! I'm not sure if I'm thrilled or daunted by the fact that a 1000- prologue has more reviews than most of my other oneshots, lol ;D but either way, I love you to little pieces. But not in a weird way.**

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**Chapter 1****: Frozen There**

"_He's frozen there, like he didn't care."_

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In the end, the epiphany happened over something simple, something stupid.

Jim was in the transporter room with Scotty and his engineers, overseeing the safe teleportation of his first officer and a young Lieutenant called Joe Tormolen down to the planet Psi 2000. The Enterprise's initial mission was to observe the planet's imminent disintegration and pick up a party of scientists settled there. Spock's scanners had located the base of their laboratory but Uhura had been unable to transmit or receive any signals, so Jim had instructed that the Vulcan and the Lieutenant go down to investigate.

McCoy was also with them, finishing his routine check of the environmental suits, because there was a high risk of radiation poisoning, temperature fluctuation and okay, it was also standard procedure. And Jim thought it was nice of the doctor to make sure his men were safe and wouldn't freeze to death or get poisoned, but…

The suits looked _ridiculous_.

Seriously, borderline criminal.

They were a bright, shiny, sparkly orange that clashed horribly with Spock's lovely pale-green skin, and crackled when he walked, and Jim was trying very, very hard not to burst into a fit giggles, mostly because it wouldn't be the proper attitude worthy of A Man, let alone A Starship Captain, but also because he didn't want to make Spock feel self-conscious (although that was highly unlikely, this being _Spock_, after all).

So he schooled his face into an expression as serious and professional as he could. He may or may not have had to bite his fist a couple of times to keep it that way.

But then his first officer donned the head-gear, and Jim couldn't help it. Decorum went out the window. Protocol was trampled on by a stampede of hungry sehlats. A Captain's proper code of conduct (whatever _that_ was) became more guidelines than actual rules.

Jim burst out laughing, loudly and gleefully and unapologetically, eyes shining and gasping for air. He actually had to lean against the control panel to remain in an upright position, he was shaking so hard.

Spock looked _hilarious_. The colour and shape of the thing weren't even _remotely_ flattering, and the large, square helmet squashed the Vulcan's ears, and though it's small visor Jim could see Spock with his serious, dignified manner and… oh God it was _hysterical_.

Jim wasn't the only one whose attempt at seriousness ended in Epic Failure; throughout the room the guffaws and chuckles of his men were as loud as his own. Even McCoy couldn't help a snort of derision, and Lieutenant Tormolen was smirking, too.

In the middle of all this Spock kept standing there on the pad with his air of elegant superiority _somehow_ amidst all the sparkly fabric ("You are all twelve" he seemed to convey without saying a word), and _that_ was when the epiphany happened.

Scotty clapped Jim on the shoulder but he barely felt it. Because he was too distracted by the fact that, blossoming in his chest, spreading and growing until he was engulfed by it, a complete and utter certainty took hold: the knowledge that the feelings for Spock he'd been trying to fight until today were _no longer optional_. They had become a part of him, permanent and fixed and unmovable.

_Permanent_?

Jim wasn't stupid, he'd felt himself falling even as he tried to stop it, but he just hadn't realised how far it had all gone. Well, as of that moment, he knew he would _always_ love Spock, that was just how things would _be_.

For ever.

Over an environmental suit.

He'd had an epiphany over Spock in _orange_.

He'd realised his eternal devotion to his first officer, his totally and awesomely Forbidden first officer (yeah, that's a capital 'F') who would never in a million years return his feelings, and who had a gorgeous girlfriend who was cool and smart and therefore eliminated any chance at all of there ever existing the remote possibility of Spock liking Jim, let alone anything more even _slightly_ romantic in nature, so really what was the point of loving someone like that? God, he had _issues_, seriously, maybe he should tell Bones… then again, the poor doctor might be driven to a murder-suicide and that would _not_ be good for morale…

Um.

So he'd realised _all of this_ over a fit of laughter because Spock looked _funny_. In his own especially comical, unintentional way.

Well, okay then.

Okay.

It's okay, Jim.

Breathe.

Roll with the punches. Face your foes, or whatever. If life throws you lemons, throw them back in it's face, demand the oranges you asked for, and make yourself some sweet orange juice. Or something equally spiritually uplifting like that. Come on. You can do this. Get over it, Jim. _Jim_. Jim?

"Jim?" It was Spock, looking at him questioningly. Shit, had he noticed? Spock's eyes managed to look amazing through the plastic visor of a Hazmat suit. _Shit_. Also, _unfair_.

"Captain?"

The laughter died down to a few sniggers and people were beginning to look at Jim strangely. What? He wanted to say. Could they see it on his face?

_What_?

There was maybe an instant of panic when everything became dizzying and the world around him spun… and Spock was still looking straight at him with curious concern… maybe Jim should look away, this was starting to get a little too intense, except that he couldn't, Spock had a way of commanding attention, of drawing every gaze toward him… but then suddenly the moment was gone, the ground beneath his feet _existed_ once more, and Jim stood straight and firm, feeling gratefully calm.

Only to look at Spock properly… and start laughing again.

At Spock, at himself, at the situation, at himself some more because _God_ this was so stupid and he loved Spock so very much so the man had better not be hurt or anything, and he was in love with _Spock_, and it felt _just_ as weird as it sounded. But also kind of… not.

"I'm still… not over… how… _silly_ you look." He gasped in between giggles.

Um. Manly chuckles. Not giggles. Kirk didn't _giggle_. That was for girls and Chekov.

At least Spock's lips twitched a little in response, which made Jim grin widely and finally relax.

McCoy rolled his eyes at them both.

"Okay, people, serious time." Jim coughed and clapped his hands. Everyone adopted a slightly more professional expression and Jim felt proud of them as the mood shifted easily back to work-mode.

"Then perhaps, now that the spontaneous emotional response at my expense is over, Mr Scott can beam us down?" Spock's tone was flat, as usual, but Jim immediately detected that they were being teased in a cute, Vulcan way. If he didn't have his male pride to consider, Jim might have thought _Awww, how adorable_. But of course he didn't think that.

At all.

"Sorry, Spock. We need our little moments to relieve the tension, eh?" Scotty said, pretending to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. "Are yeh ready?"

Lt Tormolen gave a thumbs up, and Spock nodded and said. "Energise."

After they'd disappeared in a flurry of electrical sparks and Scotty confirmed a smooth arrival, Jim turned and walked to the bridge, thinking.

So, this wasn't _that_ bad.

And at least he hadn't freaked out.

Much.

He was kind of proud of that. A tiny little smile crept up on him unexpectedly and he felt suddenly exhausted. He would need to be brave with this kind of stuff, too. Sometimes jumping off a cliff might feel easier, but he could do it. He could learn to live with this and get used to it and through everything, still be a good Captain and a good friend.

Whew.

Jim got to the bridge and nodded to his communications officer, smiled tiredly at his pilot and navigator, and sat down in his command chair, thinking that today had turned out to be a pretty emotionally exhausting one. Maybe the rest would go easier. A man could hope.

Oh, Jim.

Good thing he didn't know, then, what was still to come.

*

"Enterprise, all life support systems are off." Came the voice from the communicator.

"Shit, you must be _freezing_." Jim imagined a cabin covered in ice and snow, and fought back his overwhelming concern for his first officer. Tormolen was Human but, ridiculous suits or not, Spock was _Vulcan_.

Okay, _half_. But still.

"The environmental suits serve their purpose, Jim, and I feel no discomfort." Spock answered dryly.

"Oh. Great. Okay then, any signs of life down there?"

After a moment's hesitation, it was Lieutenant Tormolen who spoke. "… all station personnel are dead, sir."

Jim swore, his easy mood effectively evaporating.

"What caused it?"

"Unknown, Captain." Spock's voice was loud in the silent bridge when he added. "It is like nothing we have dealt with before."

*

Spock carefully separated his physical reactions to the abnormally low temperatures from his mental faculties. Discomfort was irrelevant, therefore null, therefore non existent. Despite the fact that this was obviously a fallacy, it was of use to him at the present time, and Spock allowed this indulgence.

Tormolen was proving to be young and inexperienced, however eager to help.

"Mr Spock, the woman back there has been strangled." The Liteunant's tense voice called from one of the rooms. Spock was investigating the back, where he found an unusual scene: a man covered in ice inside a shower, yet obviously he had been fully clothed.

"What of the Engineer at his post?" Spock asked, looking around the room for any clues that might lead to the strange behaviour the man seemed to be exibiting before his death.

There was a long silence, so long Spock considered the possibility that he had not been heard as the only rational explanation.

Until Tormolen spoke, in a strange, low voice Spock knew a normal Human would not have been able to hear.

"He's just… frozen there. He's frozen there like he didn't care."

That made six dead in total, including the woman, the man in a shower and the Engineer. Spock walked back to the main room and saw Tormolen shifting uncomfortably, his arm stiff. Perhaps seeing the unexpected deaths had had an effect on him?

"The circumstances of these deaths are unusual, Lieutenant." Spock commented. It was not necessary for him to speak his thoughts aloud, but he wanted Tormolen to be alert. "We must be careful not to expose ourselves to anything."

"Yeah…" Tormolen rubbed his gloved hand and winced.

Spock noted the gesture but thought it unremarkable.

A mistake he would come to regret.

"Mr Scott." He said into his communicator. "I believe this scene requires further investigation, however we do not yet have the necessary tools and my equipment has proven insufficient so far. We shall need to come back at a later date, once I have made sufficient preparations with the science department."

"Aye, Spock! You ready to beam back?"

"Affirmative."

*

Six scientists they were meant to bring back to their homes, no longer. Frozen to death, without life support systems, in unusual circumstances. What on Earth could have made them so… careless?

And now, bound to watch a planet die, to stay in orbit and observe as something as apparently invincible as a _world_ is reduced to nothingness.

"Captain, Mr Spock and Lt. Tormolen are aboard, we are holding them for decontamination in the transporter room."

Jim snapped out of his momentary reverie and spoke into his armrest.

"Okay. Um, Scotty, once that's done, have them go over to Sickbay, just in case, all right? I don't want to risk anything, and they did find six dead bodies. Tell Spock I'll be right there."

"Sure."

"Sulu, you have the conn." Sulu nodded from his post.

Jim tried not to _run_ all the way to Bones' domain, because that would be childish and stupid and unnecessary. The door opened and he heard his CMO talking to his first officer, apparently McCoy was examining Spock's readings.

"Your pulse is 242…" The doctor was saying, irony laced in his tone. "Your blood-pressure is practically non-existent… and, assuming you can call that green stuff in your veins blood, then I'm sure you'll be just spiffing, Mr Spock."

"As you very well know, the readings are normal for me." Spock said coolly. "And my anatomy is different from yours, for which I can only be extremely grateful, doctor."

Jim went into the room, a big grin on his face, and was about to say something concilliatory when… the sound died in his throat.

Spock had… arms.

This was, for obvious reasons, not news to Jim. He saw them every day, after all, in the fitting blue uniform that encased them so snugly. But right now Spock wasn't wearing his blue shirt at all, he'd taken it off for the exam. Instead, he was in his skin-tight undershirt and black pants, combined with his raven hair and startlingly dark eyes against alabaster skin with that pale-green tinge. All in all, the effect was at the same time alluring and haunting.

And Spock's arms had _biceps_, and they were smooth and defined, and Spock's shoulders were broad and his chest flat and muscled. It didn't help that he was lying down on the exam table, either.

Jim immediately realised that he wasn't the only one to notice this: Nurse Chapel was leaning against the far wall and trying to pretend she _wasn't _completely unable take her eyes off Jim's first officer, and her chest began heaving erratically when Spock got up. At another time the sight would have been an amusing distraction.

But it wasn't. At all.

In an impressive display of mental fortitude, however, Jim firmly blocked his thoughts and turned to McCoy.

"How are they? Everything all right? Everyone okay?"

"They're _fine_, Jim." McCoy answered with an eyeroll. "What are you doing here, anyway?" The suspicious tone genuinely annoyed Jim. Bones had the habit of accusing him of Spock-mooning, not that Jim had never actually _told_ the man anything (in fact, he had the feeling that the doctor thought it was all just especially hilarious joke, and if Jim _did_ tell him the truth, McCoy might try and scrub his brain and end up dying a horrible death or something).

But when on duty Jim always kept things perfectly professional. He made no exceptions, he always put the Enterprise before anyone or, indeed, anything. He resented the implication that he'd run all the way to Sickbay for nothing.

"I needed to speak to my men." He retorted, a little more defensive than was necessary.

"You couldn't do that at the briefing we're having in fifteen minutes?" McCoy said sweetly. Jim resisted the urge to strangle him, and then thought about it. Really thought about it. He _could_ have done that, couldn't he? Just waited to see his First was okay when they met afterward. But…what about Tormolen? He wouldn't be at the briefing.

Jim tried to imagine Spock and his arms weren't here. Would he have still come down if it had just been his Lieutenant coming back from a dangerous trip, and not his Lieutenant plus the man he'd realised he loved (_permanently_) a few hours ago?

Yes, of course he would have, he decided firmly. Especially after hearing about the bodies and the decontamination. It had been dangerous down there. He would have checked up on any of his crew.

Feeling grimly proud of himself for this new bit of insight, he rounded on the doctor once more, ready to give his scathing reply, when-

"Terrible…" A voice came softly from behind him.

Jim turned and saw that Tormolen sat on one of the beds, staring down at the floor as if it might hold the answers of the universe. Maybe he hadn't been ready for the sight of those bodies. Well damn, Jim really hadn't expected the entire team to be dead, but he did expect his men to be able to deal with things like those as their time at the Enterprise went by. He hoped the Lieutenant would be okay, although Tormolen really did seem badly shaken. Poor kid.

"Hey, Joe. You okay?" He said carefully.

"It was _terrible_."

Jim blanched. Not only did his Lieutenant sound afraid, but he'd never seen him so vulnerable before, voice trembling like a child's.

"It was… terrible, Captain. They were all just sitting there. Like they didn't care. I keep wondering…"

Jim walked toward the young man, not that much younger than himself, actually, and put a comforting arm on his shoulder. "Hey. You keep wondering whether we're really meant to be out here. Whether man has a _right_ to be out here. We all question these things, every now and then." Tormolen just stared at him. "You keep wondering, yet you keep signing on, eh?"

This finally got a nod and a smile, and Jim stood up and squared his shoulders. He turned to see Spock looking at him curiously, his blue shirt back on.

Heaving an internal sigh of relief, Jim crossed his arms.

"So… any guesses, Spock? Any ideas as to what the hell went on down there?"

Spock seemed pensive. "I wish I could say, Captain. However, circumstances were quite strange and I do not care to hazard an unfounded hypothesis just yet. Perhaps a detailed examination of our record tapes may show us something."

Jim nodded, as behind him Tormolen shivered. "Six dead… dead… they didn't care…"

"Joe, you need to get some rest." Jim said firmly, and with a pointed look at his CMO, he left Sickbay, Spock at his heels.

*

"We'll meet in the briefing room in ten minutes, I just need to go back to the bridge for a sec. Can you bring those tapes?"

"Of course, Jim."

"Great. Okay then, see you in… nine minutes and fifty-six seconds."

"Fifty-five."

"Firty-four."

"Fifty-three."

"Fifty-two."

"All right, Jim. I believe the correct expression is… I 'get your point'?"

"Yeah. See you."

...

"Uh, _wait_, Spock…"

"Yes?"

"I-I'm glad you're okay."

"… thank you."

"I mean, it would've sucked not to have a first officer. Then I'd actually be pressured to stay alive, and all that shit."

"I hope you understand my presence in this ship is not solely to substitute you in the event of your death, Jim."

"'Course not, you do so much more than that."

"Thank you. And I… also hope you understand that the pressure for you to stay alive remains, whether I am here or not."

"Uh… thanks?"

"You _must_ stay alive."

"I will. Promise."

"Then I shall endeavor to do the same."

"You'd better."

"Nine minutes and fifteen seconds, Jim."

"Fourteen."

"Thirteen."

On that number they went their separate ways, Jim with a contemplative smile on his face and Spock a warmth around his eyes.

Someone superstitious might make a comment about numbers and bad luck.

Fortunately, no one on the Enterprise believed in such nonsense.

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***is nervous* So… what did you think? Did I just murder TOS canon and shame trekkie fans forever? *fidgets***

**Um, ****but look at all the pretty boys! Aren't they cute and oblivious? Look at Spock all dressed in black and looking like some smexy supervillian that I want to lather in chocolate and then eat for dessert!!! Wow, I have a _serious _****fixation with that image. Hmm...**

**(my plan to distract you is working, yes?)**

**Okay, okay, show of reviews (****hands! I meant show of hands!) all those who squealed a little bit when they saw Leonard Nimoy all dark-n'-hot-like in this scene in the original episode. Now all the people who went "Oh NOES!" when he put his blue shirt back on :D**

**And hey, if you haven't seen it (OMG GO SEE IT!) that's okay, seriously, I'm really honoured that this is your first Naked Time! ;)**


	3. Get Off My Neck

**Before we begin, I just wanted to say to all reviewers, I **_**love **_**you guys, and a gigantic THANKS for commenting, I'm only sorry that I can't reply to the anonymous awesomeness: Albukirky, samara, Hala, Jiyensa, notoriousreviewer, DustfingerfangirlXD, and Murf I'm looking at you! ;)**

**Also, I'm sorry this took a bit long. I may not always be able to post a new chapter/story every three days (although I wish I could!)**

**Here goes :D**

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**Chapter 2: Get Off My Neck**

"_You don't rank me and you don't have pointed ears, so just get off my neck!"_

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Jim looked around at the briefing room and then at his men, seated around him. He felt rather unnerved about the whole thing with the dead scientists, and seeing it now on tapes was just making it worse. The eerie silence, the frozen corpses, the strange, bizarre attitude of the people who'd managed to forget they needed temperature control and a steady flow of oxygen to _live_…

"What the hell happened to them?" He murmured, almost to himself.

Then a shadow passed over the camera.

"Hey. Freeze that! What is that?" Jim leapt to his feet. Spock raised his eyebrows, looking intently at the image.

"I do not know, Captain."

Spock then played back the tape and froze the shot. It was just a small blurred line along the left side of the lens, and it looked oddly… sparkly. And orange.

Then Jim realised what they were looking at.

"That's Lt. Tormolen's arm." He said, sitting back down with a relieved chuckle. "He must have reached up to scratch his nose or something."

"Through the protective gear?"

"Why not?"

Spock looked down and lapsed into a meditative silence.

"Well it _seems_ as though the six people were under the influence of some neural-altering drug…" McCoy said thoughtfully. "But the scanners found no traces of any unusual substances, and bio-analysis of the tapes didn't detect any anomalies, so I'm ruling out intoxication. Which leaves… nothing. I don't know, I really don't understand it."

"Not even a theory?"

"I've got nothing to go on, Jim." McCoy shrugged.

"Anyone?"

Jim turned to his Chief Engineer and First Officer. Scotty shifted uncomfortably and stared at his hands, shaking his head. Spock remained silent and apparently deep in thought, a tiny frown on his face.

"The purpose of a briefing is to give me different answers based on your expertise and abilities. Or, you know, at least one. All I'm asking for is a starting-point, it doesn't matter how ridiculous it sounds. Speculation is all we've got so far."

With a sly grin, he added. "I won't laugh, I swear." The mood considerably lightened, and after a few more seconds of silence, McCoy rolled his eyes, and spoke.

"Okay, so I suppose it could be some type of space-madness we've never heard of." The doctor conceded. "What gripes my ass is that there appears to be no cause for it to just happen spontaneously. The tricorders didn't register it-"

"The tricorders will register only those things they've been _programmed_ to register. If this is some unknown, we have no way of making sure." Jim said impatiently. "We need to think outside the box with this one, I'm sure of it."

There was another long silence.

"All right. Meanwhile, Earth Science really needs detailed data on the break-down of this planet, so Scotty, I need us keeping a tight orbit. Critically tight, all right? Which begs the question…"

"My engines can keep us there and then pull us out. No problem." Scotty said firmly.

Jim bit back a proud grin, but kept his tone stern. "That's great, but we can't forget that as the planet disintegrates there are changes in gravity, mass, magnetic field… it's gonna be pretty tricky."

"Unless everyone in the crew starts taking showers with their clothes on, we'll be fine, Captain." Scotty said.

At this, Spock finally seemed to snap out of his reverie.

"Captain, I believe we need to consider whether whatever affected those people at Psi 2000 could have a negative consequence on the crew of the Enterprise. It might be… prudent to prepare for such an event." He said contemplatively.

"But Spock." Scotty began. "We got you and Tormolen decontaminated, and then Dr McCoy cleared you, so whatever it was-"

"Was unknown." Jim felt a mounting horror in his gut. "If something had happened to you we wouldn't know either, because our scanners wouldn't have been programmed to detect it."

"But decontamination…?" Scotty began.

"You can't target decontamination rays at a substance they don't know identify as malignant. It wouldn't even be a blip in their radar." For a moment McCoy's eyes flickered worriedly at Spock.

Jim swore. "So Spock could be _sick_ right now?"

That could not happen.

"How are you feeling?" Jim stood and walked around the table to where Spock sat, suddenly filled with a terrible sense of impending dread, trying to detect any hint that something was wrong with his friend. "I mean, nothing's off, right?" He leveled his head with Spock's, and squinted. But Spock just blinked back at him, looking perfectly all right. "You look fine, are you feeling fine? Any sudden urges to jump into a shower fully-clothed? Or, you know, just generally go apeshit?"

Spock pursed his lips and seemed to be resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "No, Jim. I am perfectly healthy." His gaze flickered to Jim's hand where it rested on the table, almost brushing Spock's, then back to his eyes. "However, it is something to consider."

"Yes, yes of course." Jim's mind flashed to Tormolen's slight freak-out. Did that count as something strange? Surely the boy was just in shock?

This was getting very complicated very fast.

"Bones, I want you to find Tormolen again."

"What?"

"I just… I have this feeling." At this Spock raised a cool eyebrow. "Go with me on this, okay? Bones, go find Tormolen and ask him to come talk to me if he's still acting, you know, all weird and stuff."

"I think it was just shock, Jim. Not everyone has your superhuman nerves of steel." McCoy said, his tone laced with irony.

"Do it." Jim growled. "I can't believe _I_'m the one who has to say this in a room that includes Spock, but the side of caution is where we really want to be in the middle of a critical orbit. We can't have any ugly surprises, okay?" His tone was hard and demanding, fully in Captain mode.

"You're right. I'm sorry." McCoy stood to leave, frowning. "I'll send you a report as soon as I find him."

"Good, thanks."

And with a nod he was gone.

"All right, Scotty you can go back to Engineering and double and triple-check every single valve and mechanism, I want it all to be running smoothly, we can't afford hiccups. Make damn sure she's in perfect condition."

At this Scotty looked almost offended. "Captain, I _always_ keep her in perfect condition, and I assure you we can-"

"I know, I just want to be prepared."

"Aye, that we are. But of course I'll run an extra systems check, if that should put yer mind at ease."

"It would."

"Then we'll do it."

The moment the door hissed shut behind the Chief Engineer, Spock stood up with a grim expression.

"What is it, Spock?"

"I must make a confession, Jim."

Jim felt his heart abruptly attempt to inhabit the space where he usually had his throat.

'Confession' and 'Jim' in one same sentence could mean so many things, coming from Spock. His mind considered the infinite possibilities in a terrifying millisecond, from the unlikely "I must confess I have left Nyota, I love you, Jim, take me!" to the depressing "I must confess I was one minute late for my morning shift, forgive me". And of course, the most probable and worst of all "I have noticed that you look at me like I'm a chocolate-bar melting in the sun that you'd like to stuff in your mouth. Please cease your hopeless infatuation with me. It is pitiful and lugubrious".

Yeah that's right, Jim knew what 'lugubrious' meant.

"What's wrong, Spock?"

Spock paused, and fixed his eyes on the table between them. He really seemed torn, and if it was possible for Spock to _fidget_, Jim was sure he'd be doing it now.

"I... am unfamiliar with the feeling I am experiencing at this moment and that increases the difficulty of my illustrating it to you. Yet I wish to speak so that you may comprehend... what I do not."

Jim's throat went dry. "Try me." He croaked finally.

"It is a very Human... emotion, yet I cannot ignore it." For a moment Jim forgot about the fact that his vision was blurring all around Spock (because Spock was always focused in his mind, that was just how things _were_) and stopped to think about the huge revelation his first officer was making. Spock extremely rarely admitted that he even _had _emotions, and to speak of them openly with his Captain was even rarer.

"I can teach myself not to feel it anymore, but I cannot deny it's existence. That is my nature, you understand."

"Of course, yeah. You can tell me anything Spock, what's troubling you this bad?"

"I believe Humans refer to it as... dread."

Jim blinked.

"Dread?"

"Yes. The illogical fear of a probable but not necessarily factual event in the distant future."

"I see. Well I guess you're right, it's... very Human of you."

Spock didn't seem to like this.

"I have reasons to justify my having experienced this sensation, of course. A potentially dangerouns situation of many unknown variables that threatens the safety of the crew is a logical cause."

But, finally, Jim got it. "Yeah, it is. But you're afraid-" At this Spock opened his mouth to argue but Jim ignored him. "-yes, _afraid_ because you having this feeling changes nothing, and it's therefore unnecessary to feel anything at all, therefore illogical. Am I right?"

"Not entirely-"

"Right, see? Now listen to me. Denying your Human nature is illogical. Pretending it doesn't exist is illogical. Therefore, you must occasionally concede a few irrational emotions because they exist in your nature, and that just makes you..." Makes you what? Normal? Human? Vulcan? Both? Neither? "... Spock."

"Jim. I must always be in control of my emotions. Always."

For some reason Spock's eyes clouded as he said this, and he sounded almost... self-deprecating. Jim walked around the table over to his Commander.

"Okay. It's okay. I'm glad you told me. Thank you."

"Your gratitude is illogical." Spock stated firmly, looking straight ahead without meeting Jim's eyes.

Jim chuckled, and patted his arm in a hopefully friendly (and only that, good God, Spock's muscles under the blue shirt reminded him of Spock's bare arms of earlier today, and he shouldn't be thinking things like that while touching a touch-telepath, friggin' so-called genius) way.

"It was a show of trust. Thank you for trusting me, Spock."

Before Spock could reply to this Jim's communicator sprang to life.

"Bridge to Captain." Uhura's soft voice called.

"Kirk here. What is it?"

"Reporting a slight alteration in Psi 2000's mass, minus 1.02 %, and force of gravitational pull, plus 3.78 %. The science department reports a shift in mangetic field as well, and requests Mr Spock's presence."

"Thank you, Liteunant. We're coming over right now."

Jim looked up at Spock again, and sighed.

"It's starting."

*

"It is not ewen a pointy sword!"

"Right, of course, I'm sure your strong Russian men would rather just risk permanent organ damage."

"Where is ze _adwenture_? The danger, Hikaru?"

"I like my arms and legs. They're practical to have around, you know?"

Sulu's tone was playful as he and Chekov gathered their trays and looked around for a place to sit in the Mess. It was actually rather crowded, except for one table.

"And you've seen the proper ceremonial one in my room. It's really cool, but really sharp. You can't just stab a guy with that and expect him to be fine. Hey Joe."

Sulu had heard that Tormolen was rumoured to have come back from the surface in a pretty bad shape, so he quickly went over to the empty chair opposite the Liteunant, Chekov following to sit beside him.

"Joe, Chekov's totally bashing my awesome fencing skills."

Sulu tried to give him an easy smile but Joe was staring at his untouched food, and didn't answer. Meanwhile, Chekov was trying to look annoyed, and not succeeding, because a little smile kept tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It is not bashing zat I am doing! But you could hurt yourself!"

"_What_? Which is it, Pavel? That the swords aren't pointy enough or that fencing's too dangerous?"

Chekov grumbled something unintelligible in Russian and Sulu rolled his eyes.

"Hey Joe, you used to come practice with me. Tell him it's a real sport. You work out, plus it improves your posture, hand-eye coordination-"

"Firing a phaser is much more practical and not at all silly."

"And you need hand-eye coordination for that!" Sulu said, exhasperated.

"Yes, and good aim. Maybe you should pratice on that, your aim is wonky."

"What? It's... I..._ you're_ wonky!"

"I am _not_! What does zat even mean?"

But although it was easy to forget about the other people in the room when he was exchanging banter with Chekov, Sulu didn't miss the unnerving expression on Tormolen's face. It was almost… slightly manical. Could he still be in shock?

"Joe… do you think maybe you should go to Sickbay again?"

Tormolen didn't even seem to hear him.

"Maybe have Dr. McCoy take another look at you, eh?"

Sulu gently reached out to put a reassuring hand on Joe's shoulder, but the contact jerked the Liteunant out of his stupor in the worst way.

"Get your hands off me!" The young man shouted, furious.

Chekov scowled, losing any hint of a smile.

"Hikaru is concerned for your _health_, Joe." He said coldly. Sulu ignored him, and leaned forward to try and get Tormolen to calm down. People around the Hall were starting to look at them oddly.

"Are you feeling all right?" He tried to touch Joe's arm again, but this was the wrong thing to do.

"Get the fuck off! What do you think you're doing? What gives you any right to...? You don't rank me and you don't have pointed ears, so just… just get off my neck!"

Sulu was stunned into silence for a moment, but Chekov stood up abruptly, his glare icy. "What is wrong with you, Liteunant?"

Tormolen stood too, sending his chair crashing backwards.

"Nothing! Leave me the _hell_ alone!"

There was spittle flying out of his mouth and his eyes looked huge and wild. Something was definitely wrong. He looked paranoid, scared out of his mind.

Suddenly he lunged for the table and picked up a bread knife. It wasn't even sharp, but the man held it like a deadly weapon.

"Joe, what are you doing…?" Sulu began, eyebrows raised.

Then a shipwide announcement drowned out the rest of his words.

"_Attention. Engine Room on standby alert. All on-duty personnel are to report to the bridge_."

"We must go now." Chekov said gently, tugging at Sulu's sleeve but still looking at Tormolen's crazed expression. "And we must alert security."

But by now the crowd watching them seemed to have caught on, and a blue-clad science officer stood up with a nod to the pair and went over to the communicator on the wall.

"Mess Hall to Chief of Security Giotto, we have a situation here…"

"We're all crazy!" Tormolen shouted.

The silence in the room was deafening. Every person held their breath.

"We're all a bunch of crazy hypocrites who think they can just do whatever… space! What are we _doing_ out here anyway? We don't belong out here, needing machines to breathe and eat! It's not right! Polluting and destroying every single thing we touch! We're all wrong!"

The knife was now pointed at the man's own stomach.

"We have no right to be out here! Six people _died_!"

"Joe, stop it-" Sulu stood slowly. The knife might not be too sharp but it was definitely sharp enough, and with some force…

"Yes, I'll make it all stop now."

For a moment Tormolen's expression seemed almost calm. And then he plunged the knife into his own chest.

Sulu sprang forward, leaping over the table to grab Joe's wrists and stop him, while Chekov went around it and tried to pry the knife free from his grasp. Several maintenance officers that had been eating their lunch at a nearby table quickly joined the fray, and above the sounds of grunts and punches annother announcement resonated throughout the ship.

"_Lt. Tormolen, report to Sickbay. Lt. Tormolen to Sickbay._"

Just then Ensign Rand and Christine Chapel walked inside. Rand screamed when she caught sight of the blood seeping out of the wound, but the nurse immediately ran to their side, blue eyes wide with shock.

"Someone inform Dr McCoy, have him prep an emergency room." She said. Finally Chekov managed to wrench the knife away from Joe's strong fingers and Sulu and two red-clad crewmen secured the now-still man firmly in their grasp.

"Why would he do zat?" Chekov mumbled, staggering where he stood, feeling his hand strangely itchy, and clenched it unconsciously.

"I have no idea. Is it bad?" Sulu asked Nurse Chapel, wiping his palms against his trousers from the blood. They felt weird, tingling, like electricity.

"It doesn't look too deep, but I need to get him to the Hospital Bay right now." She answered worriedly.

"Has someone called Dr McCoy?" Sulu called to the room at large.

"Yes!" Rand sniffed, wiping the corner of her eye. "Yes, Karl says McCoy told him we should take Joe up there immediately."

"He also said to try and move him as little as possible." Karl added from the communicator.

"Okay. Will you help me…?" Chapel adressed the two security officers, and between the three of them and Sulu they lifted Tormolen's body off the floor.

"Does ze Keptan know?" Chekov asked, rubbing his hand with a tissue and feeling a little nauseated.

"I'll go tell him." Rand said quickly, her expression hardening with resolve, and more impatiently she wiped the tears from her face and ran out of the room.

"Pavel?" Nurse Chapel motioned that he follow them.

"Yes, Christine?"

"I think… Sulu could use your help holding Joe's torso steady."

It was true, Sulu looked oddly feverish and pale. Chekov smiled gratefully at the nurse and moved to stand beside his friend.

"I had no idea Joe was suicidal." Sulu muttered.

"He wasn't." Chekov whispered back.

"Then why the hell did he just try and kill himself?"

Sulu didn't bother lowering his voice this time, but to that question, no one had an answer.

"What _happened_ down there?"

*

"Scanners report another notable shift in gravitational pull, Captain. A 4.12 percent increase." Spock said calmly.

"Where are Chekov and Sulu?" Jim said, trying not to let the worry colour his tone.

"Shall I compensate for the displacement?"

"Yes, Mr Spock. I'm sorry. It's just… they went for lunch, they should be back now." Just as he was moving to issue another shipwide announcement and ask his two helmsmen back to their post, however, a sharp voice from the door made him turn around.

"Captain Kirk!"

His Ensign ran into the bridge, mascara smeared over her otherwise dry eyes, hair in dramatic dissarray.

"What is it?"

"Liteunant Tormolen is injured!"

"_What_? What happened?"

"He stabbed himself. He's in Sickbay now, with Dr McCoy."

Jim jumped out of his Captain's chair in a fluid movement and sprinted to her side.

"He _stabbed _himself?"

"With a bread-knife, sir, in the Mess Hall. Mr Sulu and Mr Chekov were there with him, but I don't really know how it happened…!"

"All right, all right, calm down. I'm sure he'll be fine." Jim said in his most reassuring tone, while his mind reeled. "Let's go. Mr Spock, you have the conn!" He called over his shoulder, ready to run all the way to the Hospital Bay if necessary. He'd been right. This shit was getting serious. What if Tormolen died? The visit down to the planet must have affected the kid more than anyone had thought, but could it really be... was he just acting crazy... like the scientists who had died? Had Joe somehow caught the disease?

And then he realised what Rand's words meant.

"Spock."

* * *

**This kind of ending is what I like to call "Teh Cliff-hangerz o' DOOM" :D I feel now is a good moment to confess cliffhangers are a little bit like crack to me (except that I don't do drugs), but I promise to try and be good, and if I do post a cliffie I'll update ASAP. Deal? ;) ****Also, I'm sorry for the plotty/angsty chapter, there is much more romance to come!**

**Love you guys! Reviews = Sporks! **

**(I do not own a Spork yet, but I have decided I shall go buy one just so I can say 'I own a Spork'. Also, I saw an interview in which ZQ and CP say "Spork Power!" and if that is _not _the definition of adorable, then I refuse to aknowledge the sky is blue *squee/drool*)**


	4. I don't know why

**Hate This and I'll Love You**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 3: I don't know why**

"_I don't know why, but I love you."_

_

* * *

_

Oh, hell no. This could _not_ be happening.

Jim stopped running and whirled around. Spock was standing by Sulu's empty chair, his back to his Captain, manipulating the controls in order to adjust their orbit, and he didn't say or do anything that would indicate he had heard Jim's shout. And yet merely by the set of his broad shoulders Jim knew that Spock was aware of the possible dangers too.

Jim felt his heart constrict, and walked back slowly, every step a painful lurch.

"Spock…?"

His first officer turned around, eyes grim but set. "I feel perfectly healthy, Captain. Perhaps it was only the Lieutenant who suffered--"

"We can't know that."

"It is the most likely—"

"Maybe. But I'm not taking any chances with your health. You're coming with us to Sickbay for a full examination."

"Jim—"

"And don't argue."

"My Vulcan metabolism makes your concern even more unnecessary. Many diseases which affect Humans do not—"

"Another shift in mass, minus 1.803 percent, Captain," Uhura said loudly, her eyes on Spock.

Jim took a deep breath.

"Okay, okay. Uhura, you have the conn, and please notify Mr Sulu and Mr Chekov, I want my helmsmen back on their jobs. Mr Spock, you're coming with me and Ensign Rand to Sickbay and that's a direct order. Feeling mutinous today?"

Jim noted Spock's set jaw and stiff posture. But his first officer merely said: "No."

"Then follow me."

*

"He's dead, Jim," McCoy said the moment Jim walked into the room.

"What?" His jaw dropped. "Tormolen is _dead_?"

"Yes."

"Rand said he stabbed himself with a frikin' bread-knife! How did he _die_?"

He was so young. And eager, too, if a little closed-off. Jim's heart plummeted, and he couldn't help a quick glance at Spock to see how the Vulcan had taken the news. But Spock's face betrayed nothing.

"I don't know."

"What do you _mean_ you don't know?"

"He shouldn't be dead. The wound was bad, but I was quite confident we could… save him." McCoy's dark eyes clouded. "I don't know how it happened. He went into cardiac arrest in the middle of surgery and there was nothing we could do to revive him. It was almost…"

But here the doctor paused.

"Almost what, Bones?"

"Almost like the kid wanted to die. I know it sounds strange but that's the only… it's only when you stop fighting that… like he'd given up."

Jim's mind flashed back to the frozen room, the eerie silence, the careless corpses.

"I want a complete examination, bio-analysis, everything. See if you can find what happened to him."

McCoy sighed. "Jim, this kind of… this isn't a disease. Joe was always rather grim and silent, wasn't he? Maybe the last straw was seeing those bodies… it was his mind that gave up. Not his body."

"He was quiet, not suicidal." Jim said. "And he was a really sweet kid."

"I think he was depressed. Especially since he came back from the surface, all the symptoms were there."

"You don't _get_ depression from one trip. And then die from it two hours later."

"Jim… we're not going to find anything by running another scan. Listen to me. It was psychological," McCoy said tiredly.

"Humour me," Jim said stubbornly. "And do it anyway."

With another exasperated eye-roll, the doctor finally nodded.

"Oh, and pull his evaluation files, will you?" Jim added with a kinder voice, feeling bad for his friend. "We'll check anyway, see if his psychological profile… see if it _could_ have just been some sort of depression."

"Okay."

Jim turned to Spock and took a deep breath, ready to ask McCoy to chain him to a bed if necessary, but to his surprise Spock put a hot hand on his shoulder and shook his head; a curiously Human gesture.

"Captain, I believe it is quite clear by this point that I have not been affected. I exhibit none of the symptoms and my Vulcan metabolism is radically different from Lieutenant Tormolen's. At this critical time it would be illogical to confine me to the Hospital Bay on a remote possibility; you must see that my duties are extensive and there is no one onboard the ship qualified enough to begin to cover them all in my absence."

Although it killed him to admit it, Spock was entirely right. The irritatingly brilliant pointy-eared bastard.

"Furthermore, I do not wish to deprive you of my presence during a demanding and dangerous mission. I am invaluable in both my level of expertise and the fact that my knowledge of _you_ is unsurpassed by anyone in this crew."

And because the time was indeed difficult, and Jim's grief and guilt were boiling right under his skin, and he was quite tired and maybe very afraid, he had to fight the urge to beg Spock to hold him, just for a little while, to be taken care of and not be the one who must hold everything together.

But of course he shouldn't even let himself fantasise about that, and instead, the Captain said:

"It's nice to see such a fine example of that famous Vulcan modesty."

"There is no such thing as a 'famous Vulcan modesty'. And that I know you better than any other person onboard is but the truth."

Wishing terribly that Spock would stop saying solemn and touching things like that (especially in public with his best friend right there, for Christ's sake), Jim caved.

"_Fine_. You're coming back with me to the bridge."

Spock gave him a curt nod with just a hint of satisfaction, and Jim motioned to Rand.

"You too, Yeoman."

They left the Sickbay and Jim felt his heart like a heavy weight in his chest, making breathing slightly more difficult than usual. While they walked to the nearest turbolift he could feel Spock's gaze on him like a tangible thing, but knew better than to let himself return it. His nerves were already raw and alert, every bit of him tense and prepared for something that might have already begun, and he couldn't afford the extra effort it would take not to drown in his emotions.

"Wait!"

Jim spun around; Nurse Chapel was running toward them.

"What's wrong, Chris—"

"Mr Spock… please don't go."

Her eyes were huge and pleading, and she was looking at Spock as though Jim and Rand didn't exist.

"I am needed at the bridge, Miss Chapel," Spock stated calmly, with perhaps a hint of puzzlement.

"But… no! I…"

Jim flinched, suddenly knowing with absolute certainty what she was going to say, an instant before she said it.

"I love you!"

The silence in the empty hall reverberated against the walls.

To everyone's surprise, it was Yeoman Rand who recovered first.

"Captain, I'll alert the bridge, make sure Mr Chekov and Mr Sulu are back at their posts, and maybe expect you and Mr Spock there in five minutes?"

Jim managed to snap out of it and shake his head.

"I'm coming with you. But Mr Spock _will_ be needed at the bridge soon."

His tone was perhaps somewhat sharper than he'd intended, but he knew what was going to happen next and he sure as hell didn't want to say here and hear Spock talk about his love for his girlfriend and how that meant he couldn't be with anyone else. Didn't want anyone else. Not even someone as lovely as the beautiful, intelligent nurse whose large blue eyes shone so prettily in the harsh light.

"Captain… please. Remain here with me?"

And Jim's arm was abruptly captured by a vice-like hand that held him strong and didn't let go, so it had _sounded_ like he had a choice, but really he didn't. At all.

"Five minutes, Captain?" The Yeoman said with a sigh.

"Apparently." Jim shrugged.

She nodded and left quickly.

Jim knew it was beyond idiotic to feel (in a sad, martyred sort of way) a little bit pleased that Spock wanted him to stay by his side. But he couldn't help it.

Chapel walked over to them until she stood right in front of Spock, and there was something unbearably sad in her face, and perhaps a little scared too, like she didn't understand what she was doing.

Jim felt like he _could_ understand, all too well, but wished she'd have chosen a more appropriate time and place.

"I'm sorry but… I needed to tell you. I can't seem to stop…"

Spock was perfectly still.

"I see the way you feel. The others, they don't see… the Human Mr Spock… and the Vulcan Mr Spock… they don't know, do they? I don't either, but I _want_… I don't know why, but I love you."

"Miss Chapel—"

"Christine. Please. My name is Christine." And then the fear and conflict faded and her expression became utterly rapt, looking at Spock as though he was the world, and Jim was _right there_ next to him.

"They say you're this machine… this unfeeling—" At the word she reached out to touch his hands, but Spock immediately stepped back, keeping them away. He looked sad and vaguely panicked at being in this situation, which meant his eyes were dark and his jaw was subtly clenched.

"I know you don't love me. It's too easy to see who you _really_ love…" And that was when she turned to Jim with a tragic expression and a tear rolled out of the corner of her eye. Which was, finally, when the Captain realised something was seriously wrong. "But I can't help this, I can't—"

"Nurse Chapel, I am sorry," Spock said, his voice tinged with misery and kindness, and Jim forced himself to ignore how it made him feel to hear those words in that tone and think, quickly, because something was happening right before his eyes. "I am very sorry—"

"I know. I always knew. Maybe even before you did."

Something passed between them then, something Jim didn't catch that had to do with a secret he wasn't privy to, but somehow he ignored that too, focusing on what must be done.

"Spock."

He put a tentative hand on Spock's shoulder to try and get his first officer to see sense, because he really did need to be back in command. Right now.

"Spock, Christine is sick, and I have to go. Get her back to the Hospital Bay, tell Dr McCoy what's going on and I'll need you on the bridge in two minutes, okay?"

The half-Vulcan turned to look at him with an inscrutable expression, and then loosened his grip.

Jim ran.

*

"Another shift in mass…"

"We have a magnetic pull increase here…"

"Why isn't Mr Spock at his station?"

"Is the Captain coming back soon?"

"Lieutenant Uhura, maybe you should page the Sickbay again and ask about Captain Kirk—"

"He's coming."

Yeoman Rand's sharp voice carried over everyone else's as she entered the busy bridge and strode over to the helm. Thankfully, Mr Sulu and Ensign Chekov had seen fit to return to their posts.

Lieutenant Uhura was looking at her with concerned dark eyes.

"What about Commander Spock?" she said.

"He is also on his way over here."

Uhura nodded and put her earpeice back on.

"Mr Sulu, compensate and adjust orbit." Someone called from Mr Spock's science station.

There was no response, although Sulu had to have heard that. Rand looked at him suspiciously, and realised he looked rather fevered, and… absent, literally just staring into space.

"_Someone_ compensate orbit," the officer said again, looking over at them with an annoyed expression.

"Yes, right away."

Finally the Yeoman reached over Sulu's shoulder and did it for him. She turned to Ensign Chekov, who was also looking mildly insane with a large, vacant grin.

"Helmsman?" She tapped Sulu's arm. "Hello?"

"Hello, Yeoman."

Abruptly he stood up, eyes shining strangely, and began walking toward the turbolift. The other officers were staring with wide eyes. Uhura actually stopped talking mid-sentence.

"What—?" Karl Jaeger began, but then the turbolift doors opened and the Captain walked in.

Sulu stopped at stared at him. Kirk stared back, frowning.

"Sulu, where are you… hey, are you feeling all right?"

But Jim could have answered his own question with a resolute 'no'. Sulu's pupils looked gigantic and he seemed to be sweating like mad, a glistening smile still firmly in place.

Oh, _hell_.

"Report to Sickbay immediately, Mr Sulu." He said. "Is anyone else feeling ill?"

No one answered, but Jim knew his own bridge too well, and immediately detected the second problem.

"Mr Chekov? Are you okay?"

Chekov spun around in his chair and stood up so quickly he nearly toppled over. "_U menya vsyo khorosho_!" he said, clutching the armrest for support but with a grin large enough to match Sulu's.

"You don't _look_ fine," Jim said worriedly. Chekov also seemed to be sweating profusely and his eyes were a touch maniacal, unfocused. "Tell you what, why don't you accompany Sulu down to Sickbay, okay? Keep him company."

At that, Chekov positively glowed. "_Da! Tseluyu_!"

"No no, no need to be kissing me or anybody else. Just walk him there, okay?"

The young Ensign nodded and bounded into the turbolift.

"Make sure they get there, will you?" Jim said to a red-clad security guard by the doors. The man nodded and went inside after the other two.

Worse, it was all getting worse.

"What's our status, Uhura?"

"Orbit decaying, we've had to modify and adjust four times already to keep up with the planet's breakdown. The Science Lab has sent preliminary reports, Captain."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Jim looked at the now vacated helm. "Please inform Sulu's replacement that I need another pilot, at least."

"Yes, sir."

He could feel his grasp of the situation slipping, and the tighter he held on the faster it all spiralled out of control. How on earth had Chekov and Sulu become infected…? Was this even an infection? Why had it come through Tormolen's suit and not Spock's? And then there was Nurse Chapel…

"Bridge to Sickbay."

Jim hoped Bones would have some answers.

"_Sickbay, Dr McCoy here_."

"Bones, it's me. Tell me you have something."

"_Not yet, Jim. But I think at least three of my nurses are affected. Including Chapel. Spock brought her in just now_."

"What!? But how is this thing spreading?"

"_Look, we can't panic. I don't know yet, but I'm willing to take a guess, and say it's through touch_."

"Touch?"

"_Yes, some kind of spore, or bacterial… oh, I don't know, look, everyone seems to react differently, but so far my scans report a very powerful stimulant. It certainly seems as though…"_ The doctor paused at the other end of the line, and Jim rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Bones, I'm sorry but I don't have time for hesitations. Just tell me."

"_It's just a theory. But the disease seems to lower all inhibitions completely, leaving only a person's true, volatile emotions. I'm pretty sure the thing itself doesn't kill, though. At least it shouldn't. And I think we can contain this. So far, it's only affected the nurses who tended Tormolen, touched him_—"

"What about you?"

"_I was wearing my surgical scrubs, never came to any skin to skin contact. Look, if it's just here in the medical bay we'll seal it off, okay?"_

"Not yet. Sulu and Chekov are on their way here, and I'm pretty sure they were affected too."

"_Damn. Oh that's right, they came in carrying the Lieutenant. Make sure they don't touch anyone. Listen, Jim I've gotta go_."

"Okay. I want constant updates on the situation."

"_Got it. Sickbay out_."

Hope. There it was. Hope that made his heart a little lighter, made his breathing a little easier, and Jim couldn't help it. Perhaps all his worry had been for nothing. Perhaps they would get through this, after all, and McCoy was already on his way to developing a cure.

The turbolift doors opened and he turned to glance behind him; Spock had entered the bridge, looking calm and composed as always. Uhura looked up and seemed about to say something to her boyfriend, but then seemed to think better of it and turned back to her station, dark eyes clouded. Spock passed her chair without even a glance. Why?

But he must focus. Stuff like that didn't matter while there was still danger. The terribly difficult orbit, and the fact that he had no navigator would become much more serious problems if the infection did spread.

Jim looked at the helm, where Yeoman Rand was sitting at the controls, looking nervous. She had much less experience than he, so he stood and walked over next to her.

"I'll take over for now, Yeoman," he said firmly, tone leaving no room for discussion. She was startled, but nodded.

"Yes, Captain."

*

They actually managed to keep working without any emergencies for a solid hour, when Jim felt a presence hovering over his shoulder.

"What is it, Commander?" he quipped without looking up.

"A ship wide alert might benefit the contention of the disease," Spock murmured quietly.

Jim had known he was going to say exactly that.

"Yes, and spread panic and chaos."

"You under-estimate your crew's capability to handle stress or pressure."

"No, you over-estimate my own capability to inflict unnecessary fear to the hard-working crewmen and crewwomen who I need in perfect shape right now." Much as it pained him to say it.

"Jim—"

"Spock, if this infection unleashes everyone's inner emotions, don't you think it makes sense to keep those in check until the last moment?"

Jim looked at his first officer from under his lashes, staring up with conviction and something like defiance, trying to get Spock to understand his difficult decision. Spock held his gaze for a very long time, his dark eyes intense, stretching the fabric of time, and space, and the universe within his irises…

"Captain! Security Alert from Level Two!" Uhura called suddenly. Jim leapt up and sprinted to her side, Spock close behind him.

"What is it?"

"I…" She blanched, and frowned. "Repeat, Ensign." Jim waited as she listened again, eyes wide with incredulity. "He… he says Sulu was spotted roaming the halls of Level Two, corridor three with… a sword."

"Roaming the halls… with a _sword_."

"Yes."

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Jim groaned.

"Lieutenant Sulu is in possession of a ceremonial katana sword, Captain," Spock said tightly. "I once heard him speak of it to Ensign Chekov."

"Yes, I know, but how did he…?" Jim shook his head, resisting the urge to scream in frustration. "Never mind, we have to find him. Send a security detail to Deck 12 and—"

"For honour, Queen and France!"

"No. Fucking. Way."

Sulu had burst into the bridge, shirtless, chest gleaming with sweat and a very sharp-looking sword in hand. There were a few shouts and surprised nervous laughs, and Jim wanted to crawl up in a corner and possibly sleep until it was all over.

"This _can't_ be happening," he choked.

"Surrender, ye all who… something I can't remember!"

"Sulu put that thing away, goddamn!"

Uhura stood up quickly and began backing away, until she was standing between Jim and Spock. Sulu was brandishing the sword with a sort of wild ease that was frightening to watch.

"Listen to me for fuck's sake," Jim swore, taking a step toward his crazed helmsman. "This is dangerous, Sulu. Stop it. You could hurt someone."

But a hot hand caught his, and gently pulled him away.

"Let me go, Spock—"

"Captain, reasoning with him shall not be productive. You must not endanger yourself."

Uhura was now looking at their held hands with alarm and maybe even anger, as if there weren't enough strange problems he didn't understand _already_, and Jim jerked his out of Spock's grasp without even knowing why.

"Spock this is not really the time to play brave knight in shining—"

"Let me do this for you, Captain." Spock snapped, and shoved him back with so much force that Jim stumbled and fell to the floor.

"Spock! No!"

But Spock had launched himself at Sulu in a ruthless display of his usually contained force, ducking the sword with ridiculous ease and was about to latch his fingers onto Sulu's neck for a nerve-pinch…

"_No_! Spock, don't touch him!"

* * *

**So basically, I am an evil, mean person who should be punished (and by punished I don't mean to suggest anything inappropriate or sexual in nature… um, unless Mr Nimoy wanted to be involved). ****But seriously guys, I'm so sorry for being such a douche and taking this long to update. I promise to **_**try**_** and not let it happen again, although real life has lately been kind of a nasty little *insert insult of choice here***

**I love you SO much for the wonderful, wonderful comments of support and encouragement and sometimes threats… ;) There's a bunch of really exciting stuff coming soon! *excited squee***


	5. Save You

**Hate This and I'll Love You

* * *

**

**Chapter 4: Save You**

"_I'll save you, fair maiden!"_

"_Sorry, neither."

* * *

_

"_Spock_!"

Spock heard him and stopped, his hand inches from Sulu's neck.

Jim scrambled up and ran to them, quickly dodged a terribly precise blow, then threw himself to the side to avoid another. He couldn't get closer to Sulu but that hadn't really been his purpose; it gave Spock enough time to back away. At least he now stood between Sulu and the door.

"If we cannot touch him, how do you propose we detain him?" The half-Vulcan asked with infuriating calm. Sulu was looking at him earnestly; completely unaware of what was happening.

Jim reflexively tried to move Uhura behind him, but she simply raised a killer eyebrow and stayed by his side, her body language clearly saying 'this really is not the time to play brave knight in shining _anything'_.

"Captain?"

"I don't know." Jim raised his voice and looked around the stunned, silent bridge. "Does anyone have a phaser up here?"

He wished he hadn't sent the security man with Chekov and Sulu. He was probably infected by now, or worse…

"That would be against regulations, Jim," Spock said quietly.

"I was kind of hoping someone had ignored them."

No one had.

"_Dammit_."

Sulu started swinging the sword again. "_I_ shall protect the fair maiden!"

"Sulu, it's _you_ we have to protect her from," Jim said exasperatedly.

"I can protect myself," Uhura snorted, rolling her eyes at the testosterone overload.

"Not you!" Sulu said worriedly. "Pavel! Where is he?"

Jim groaned. "We _really_ need to stun this guy. Has someone tried to contact the Sickbay?"

"Captain, Sickbay is not responding!" called a nervous-looking Ensign.

Oh _no_.

"Try again."

"I've been trying since Mr Sulu came in, sir."

Jim swore, and quickly assessed the situation. Spock was currently the only one who could leave the bridge, since he had managed to get past Sulu and was closest to the door.

"Okay, Spock, go."

"No."

Jim blinked in surprise. "What?"

"I will not leave you at this time. Lieutenant Sulu is dangerous, you need me."

"We can handle him, Spock," Uhura said.

"But I have to rescue Chekov! Where is he?"

"Wait for him here, Sulu, and I'm sure he'll show up any second now," Jim said with false cheer. His tone sobered when he turned back to his first officer. "Spock, I need you to go down to the Sickbay and find out what's happening. I have a very bad feeling about this."

"But… I wish to remain here with you. I must protect you."

Jim firmly ignored the way his heart leapt at those words.

"I am stronger than anyone in this ship," Spock continued, his voice perfectly even and reasonable. "And it is even possible that I am immune to the disease, since Lieutenant Tormolen contracted it on the planet, yet I did not. It is logical for me to stay and--"

"You're being _stubborn_, Spock," Uhura interrupted him, something very full in her eyes. Jim knew exactly what she'd intended with the well-worded statement.

"… Stubbornness is a Human trait." Spock replied carefully.

"Yes."

The half-Vulcan stood still, looking at Jim over Sulu's shoulder with a perfectly blank expression. Finally he nodded, once. "I understand. I shall inform Dr McCoy and send up someone from Security with a phaser."

"Be careful," Jim couldn't help but add, desperately hoping Spock would be fine, and Bones was just swamped with work and unable to answer their page.

"You must endeavour to take care as well, Captain."

And he was gone.

"All right, Sulu, look…" Jim took a careful step forward with his hands extended, and spoke as calmly and gently as he could. "You need to give me the sword, okay? I just wanna look at it, it's really cool. Will you let me have it?"

Sulu swished the deadly-looking weapon through the air, and laughed. "Sure, Jim!"

"_Great_. Come on, hand it over."

Jim reached out an arm slowly, aware that he was literally risking life and limb by doing this.

"No, listen, I have a better idea! I can show you! Look, this is the advance-lunge attack!"

"Captain!" Uhura cried.

This time he was too fast.

Jim fell backwards and hit his head against a console; Sulu had sliced two long gashes in his shirt, and a trickle of red began soaking it to his skin. The wounds stung but what really hurt was the blow to his head.

"Sulu, _stop_! You're going to kill him!" Rand shouted desperately.

But the pilot wore a happily puzzled expression; completely oblivious to the fact that Jim was now bleeding and half-stunned.

"Jim, get up. Otherwise you're at my mercy."

"No, Sulu you--"

"I warned you!" He said cheerfully, and raised the weapon again.

Suddenly Uhura leapt between them, kicked Sulu hard on the knee so he lost his balance, slapped the sword out of his wrist, and punched him so hard he fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Uhura!"

She looked back at him, eyes sparkling and breathing heavily, holding her wrist with a wince.

"Am I infected now?"

"You… you shouldn't have done that."

"But I did. Does this mean I'm infected?" she asked again, and there was a hint of fear in her voice.

Jim closed his eyes and nodded.

"Then I'll report to Sickbay immediately." Something vulnerable about her eyes made Jim want to tell her she'd be fine, but of course he couldn't, because he just… didn't know. He stood up, aware of every eye glued to their conversation, aware, too, of the extra weight her sacrifice now added to his heart; one more life he was responsible for. "Thank you."

"He was going to murder you without meaning to."

"I know. You saved my life."

"I know. You owe me big." She smiled faintly, beautiful in her defiance of fear.

Jim mustered some of the strength he had left and smiled back.

"You should go," he said gently. "Hurry, and be careful not to touch anyone."

She nodded, resolved, and ran.

It was time to take action.

"All right, Ch--" But Chekov wasn't there to make the ship-wide announcements. "Uh, Miss Rand, explain the nature of the disease to the crew and advise they stay away from the Deck 5 during the next few hours. Chief Giotto, I want Security patrolling the corridors and looking for signs of erratic behaviour, and send anyone exhibiting them straight to Sickbay. But remember, no skin-to-skin contact. Be very specific about that."

"Aye, Captain!"

"I need someone at the helm," he said, looking around. "Who here took Basic Cartography and Piloting at the Academy?"

One of the engineers raised his hand grimly. He was a quiet, polite man in his fifties, whose name might have been Reese, or Reeves.

"Do you know how to modify orbit?"

"I think so, sir."

"Excellent, you're now my pilot. Go." The man crossed the bridge and sat down on the helm to make the adjustments. "Yeoman Sanders? I want you at Communications; keep trying to get a hold of Sickbay, report to me the second they answer."

"Yes, sir."

"Karl." The science officer snapped to attention. "Keep monitoring Mr Spock's station and help the pilot make the necessary changes as the planet's pull increases."

"Aye, sir."

"If it gets so much as a _millimetre_ too close, we'll get out of here and screw the mission, okay? I'm not risking all our lives just for data."

"Orbit is holding so far, Captain."

"Good. It will be difficult but we're going to get out of here," he said firmly, wishing half of his convicition was real. "Let's get to work."

*

Uhura sprinted along the corridors of Deck 2 with tears streaming down her cheeks, and was given a wide berth because of this, which was probably just as well.

Though she had enough reason to, she had never been a girl to weep in fear. She didn't know why she was crying (wasn't even sure this qualified as proper crying, if there was an alien disease raging in her veins), but she ignored her blurred vision and stinging eyes. She was driven by one goal; getting herself to the Hospital Bay. After that, everything would be okay, she just had to keep running, and not be distracted, or forget. If she was focused, she'd be fine.

By the time she'd stumbled into a turbolift and instructed it to take her to Deck 5, her excellent hearing told her something was wrong; there was a strange absence of activity in what was usually the busiest place in the ship.

She emerged with caution, feeling her skin tingle uncomfortably, to an empty corridor. Sickbay was just three corners away... something had gone horribly wrong.

"Nyota."

She spun around. Spock was walking toward her.

"I thought you'd already be in Sickbay," she said, feeling the usual stab of sadness, pain and the ghost of a love that, despite her best efforts, remained very stubbornly _there_, sharpening the other two emotions like a knife.

"The entire Deck is contaminated; we must leave and seal it off immediately." As they both moved back toward the turbolift, Spock reached out to take her hand in an unusual display of affection, and Uhura was so surprised by this (and maybe her reflexes were already beginning to weaken) that she didn't pull back in time.

His unnaturally hot skin was like a fire against hers, and it _hurt_.

"Spock, _no_," she breathed, staring at their touching palms in horror. The Vulcan drew back, but it was too late, of course.

"Are you infected?" he asked sharply. She couldn't answer; what had been a spark of fear increased at a dizzying speed, like a spiral spinning out of control, growing and growing until it would swallow her _whole_…

"_Nyota_."

It stopped with a lurch, and she was herself again. Spock was looking down at her intently. She wanted him to be concerned, afraid for her. She wanted him to have trouble hiding it, but Spock never showed her anything.

"You are crying."

She laughed, wait, why was she laughing? She couldn't stop. It was frightening, this not knowing.

"You touched Mr Sulu."

"Yes," she managed. "To save the Captain."

Suddenly something horrible and bitter seemed about to explode inside of her, and she was terrified of what it would make her do, of what this loss of control might make her say, but then even that fear started to fade away, though she tried to cling to it like her anchor to sanity.

"Spock…"

She was losing… the fear slipped out of reach…

"Spock, you have to leave me here and _run_," she choked, trying to push him away blindly, but he was like a rock, immovable. It was so much worse than being drunk, it was wild, unbridled, uncontrolled, it was too late, and her last coherent thought before she let go was that, despite everything, she trusted Spock and the Captain with her life.

"I do not wish to leave you," he said.

"Liar," Uhura chided, tapping his nose with a finger and smiling sweetly. Spock was so polite and gentle, but oh so untouchable… She used to try and guess at what he was feeling, but sometimes she guessed wrong. And what was worse; she knew who always got it right.

"Yes you do. At least you should, by now. You're so smart, Spock… you'd think it wouldn't have taken you this long to figure it out."

"I do not wish to end our relationship, Nyota."

"Lying again, my prince." She kissed him on the cheek, chaste, infinitely tender. It was so agonising, this feeling twisting her insides, but at the same time so very _far_.

"Why do you insist that I do not care for you?"

"I know you care, but you don't love me."

"Our relationship--"

The anger was abrupt and brutal, it flared in her mind with blinding intensity.

"Is a lie! If I didn't know you so well I'd think you were being incredibly cruel. But I do know you; at least, I like to think I know enough to see that you really _are_ that blind. What you feel for me, Spock, is not love."

"I am Vulcan. I have told you before that I cannot feel as you Humans do--"

"You can still love! I know it's not the same, I know you're different and I always accepted that! But you _are_ capable of love, Spock, just not for me. The problem is that you don't know what it is, so you've fooled yourself into thinking that we worked, but the truth is… I loved you. Part of me still does, and it's not the calm, logical feeling you think. You deciding when you permit yourself to be attracted to me isn't love. Look at me."

He did; every detail, from her long legs to the curves her dress hugged so snugly, to the beads of sweat rolling down her neck and her blazing eyes. His face still betrayed nothing.

"This is _not_ love."

"Our minds are compatible, it was logical--"

She laughed again, loudly, unkind. "That's not love either! Love, my sweet, kind Vulcan, is so much _more_. It's the way your blood screams, the way your veins boil and your skin burns. It's the catch in your throat and the fever in your head, it's the ache in your heart…"

It was unstoppable, it poured out of her, betrayal and hurt laced in every syllable, and she knew she must stop now but the pain was all she could see, smell or breathe.

"It's the way you ignore logic to be with the person you care about more than anyone. The way you lose control, and the way your eyes light up and you have to fight a smile. It's the way you sometimes lose. Love is the way you are completely, utterly his."

She had captured him, hypnotised him with her words.

"It's the need he commands, that you fear because you've never felt it before. It's the desire you try to fight, the hunger you can't sate and the thirst you can't quench. It's the illogical, irrational, unstoppable emotions you just can't seem to silence…"

Finally. His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, as though she had physically struck him.

"So you see…"

She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear.

"Love, my poor, dear, darling Spock, is what you feel when Jim Kirk looks at you."

* * *

**Um. This is shorter due to reasons of not wanting to take too long in posting it although I now realise the ending was probably equivalent to shooting myself on the foot...*shifty-eyes***

**Don't kill me? Review, instead? It's only logical ;)**


	6. Tonight

**Hate This and I'll Love You**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 5: Tonight**

"_There will be no ice cream for you tonight."_

_

* * *

_

"Another orbit shift, sir, the gravitational pull has begun to fluctuate rapidly."

Jim stood from his chair and went over to the helm.

"Mr Reeves, compensate," he instructed. The engineer seemed nervous under his Captain's close scrutiny, but to Jim's relief performed the task properly.

There was ten second's pause, then…

"Pull continues to increase, Captain," Karl Jaeger said from the science station.

"But…" Jim checked the controls again. Reeves hadn't made a mistake, he was sure of it. And yet-

"Still increasing, sir."

"Engines aren't responding," he muttered, trying another circuit. "Why aren't the engines responding?"

Reeves stood from the chair and Jim tried every short-cut he knew to override this strange lock, but the panels were dead. It wasn't working, he couldn't steer his ship.

He had lost control.

"Captain we have increased our speed and orbit is shrinking."

"Okay." He exhaled. "Miss Sanders, get me Mr Scott and ask him why the hell our engines aren't responding to commands from the bridge."

"Sir, I can't… it's… internal communications are jammed!" Yeoman Sanders looked horrified at her panel.

"What? Radiation wouldn't account for this, are you sure?"

"I—maybe it's… I don't know Captain, Lieutenant Uhura would probably…"

"Lieutenant Uhura is sick, it's up to you, Katie." He held her gaze sternly until she took a deep breath and turned back to the station. "Now, are we sure every channel is unusable?"

"I… yes, sir, it seems like we've been cut off. But…" She frowned and twisted a few dials. "It's only the outgoing channels, Captain. We can receive transmissions, just not issue them."

But this told Jim all he needed to know; the only way to specifically block bridge control was through deliberate sabotage. And it could only be done from down at Engineering, which meant they were either under mutiny or, more likely, the disease had reached all the way to Scotty's domain. Jim wasn't quite sure which option he preferred.

"Orders, Captain?"

He came back to himself and roughly shoved his panic down once he realised what he must do, his mind leaping ahead of the rest. "Okay, okay, Mr Morrison, seal Deck 5."

"But sir, Mr Spock is probably still down at Sickbay—"

"Seal it off, _now_."

"Aye, Captain."

Jim waited with bated breath, part of him already suspecting what had—

"Sir, we've lost all manual overrides, I can't seal the Deck."

He didn't bother swearing.

"All right, I'm going down to Engineering to see what the hell is going on and _listen_. All of you."

Every person in the bridge turned to look up at him, utterly trusting in his ability to get them out of this situation alive.

"No one can get in here. We lose the bridge, we've lost everything. I know we don't have manual right now, but I'm going to get it back and we'll warp out of this place to safety, I promise. Now, the disease is spreading through skin-to-skin contact. So no touching anyone, just in case. I know that sucks." A few weak, nervous chuckles. Jim wanted to add maybe some more brave, encouraging words. But there was no time, and anyway he'd never been great at giving inspirational speeches. "Just… trust me."

He left the bridge and walked into the turbolift, leaning against the wall and taking a deep, shaking breath.

"_Attention all crewmembers_!"

What the--?

Chekov's voice echoed through the speakers everywhere on the ship. This in itself wouldn't be surprising if Jim hadn't last seen the boy about to go to Sickbay to be cured. Then again, Sulu had shown up shirtless and waving a sword, so he supposed it could have been worse.

"_I am now in control of ze Enterprise_!"

Or not.

"_There shall be parties, and vodka, and dancing!"_

Good God.

"_Also ice cream_!"

The turbolift opened and Jim immediately broke into a run through the Engineering Deck. There were two corridors and a door before he could get into the Main Room, but hopefully no one would have bothered to seal it. Nevertheless he rounded the corner and full sprint, fearing the worst--

"Captain!"

Jim stumbled to a stop and stared.

The entire Engineering crew, every single working person down at the gigantic station, were standing outside the locked door. And Mr Scott seemed to be holding a phaser.

"Scotty?"

"What… are you all right Captain?" Scott said, alarmed, and Jim looked down at his chest and realised it probably looked kind of ugly, what with the slashed shirt and the blood.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he answered immediately. This reassured no one since it wasn't exactly the first time he'd spoken thus only to lie, but at last the Engineer asked no more questions; the situation was too grave for that.

"What happened here?"

"Chekov locked us out, Captain!" Scott said indignantly.

"What the… how?"

"He got 'ere not ten minutes ago and threatened to infect us all unless we went outside! I heard Miss Rand on the intercom sir, if he'd'ave touched us we would have all become infected."

Jim nodded, glad to see that while the poor man sounded extremely distressed, he was already trying to figure out a way back in.

"_Did_ he touch anyone?"

"No."

"Good. So I'm guessing he overrode manual for every door?"

"The entire system, aye. Beats me how he did it, though, not without helm releasing control."

"Yeah, well, I've got an inexperienced engineer acting as pilot and no navigator, so it's definitely possible. Remember, this is Chekov, he's ill and he's drugged but the kid is still a friggin genius."

"If I can get back inside we can still restore power. Maybe in time to pull away." Scott said, pointing his phaser back at the panel and cutting through it; he had to do in incredibly slowly so as not to permanently lock the system, which would happen if he fried the wrong wire.

"But he hasn't cut Main, has he?" Jim asked, suddenly having a horrible vision; if Chekov cut main power it would take thirty minutes to restart engines… and he'd estimated that without helm responding they had about that time before Psi 2000 pulled them in for good, and the Enterprise was lost.

"Not yet," Scott answered grimly.

"_Zis song is called 'Granny Ate Peas', and it is old and traditional_!"

Chekov's voice came through the speakers. Jim walked down the bright corridor to the nearest screen, seeing his own worried reflection on the dark floor looking back up at him, and a drop of red slither down from his chest.

"_It is also Russian! Of course, but zis is obvious_."

He found a screen with the young Ensign soon after; Chekov had burst into song, happily leaning against the chair he sat on, obviously ill. Jim flashed back to leaving Sulu prone on the floor of the bridge. But what else could he have done? Anyone trying to carry him would become infected, so he couldn't take him to Sickbay, and he didn't even know if Sickbay was functioning… at least they'd taken away his sword, right? Someone would be careful with it, right?

Focus, Kirk.

Chekov's voice was surprisingly decent and musical, if a little breathless. Jim wanted to wring his hands in exasperation, or maybe laugh. Or cry.

Now to talk to him.

* * *

Spock knew he was infected the second he touched Uhura's hand. He had felt the alien substance immediately react with his epithelial cells and enter his bloodstream, and with it the disease.

However, he did not truly know he was affected by its symptoms until she spoke those shattering words. "_Love…_"

He had left Nyota standing there even though logic dictated he shouldn't have since she was a potential danger to herself and to others, but he had been unable to bear another second of those sad yet intently cruel eyes. He had even begun to run at some point, unsure of a destination but sensing that his control slipped and slid from his grasp with every fluttering beat of his heart pumping the poison farther into his body.

Finally, clinging to his last dredges of Vulcan discipline, he had found the conference room and locked himself in, hoping that the Captain had the sense to order an immediate quarantine of the entire Deck.

"_Love, my poor, dear_…" she had whispered. Spock collapsed onto a chair with none of his usual grace. "_Love… is what you feel_…" Was it true? Was that what love was, a difficulty in suppressing his irritation and estimation for someone in equal parts? A chaos of conflicting impulses and boiling emotions that forced the need to hold logic tighter than ever for fear that it might vanish if he let go even slightly… just like this disease?

Was _that_ what love was?

"… _what you feel when_—"

He saw droplets of water landing on his lap and that was how he knew he was crying. And once he knew he couldn't stop it, he, Spock of Vulcan who prided himself in his control, wept, deeply and utterly, for his mother, for his planet and the terrible pain in his head where an entire species used to be, for the agony of the broken bonds, and for Nyota's bitter words, and for the truth in them. He'd never given himself up to emotion like this in such a complete way.

But it was not liberating.

"_Love, my poor_—"

It was terrifying.

"—_dear, darling Spock_—"

And the terror grew and grew like the black hole that had swallowed his world…

"—_is what you feel_—"

Until he shook with it, desperate for the one, the only one who could fix what was broken inside of him…

"—_when Jim Kirk looks at you_."

And that was when the Captain burst into the room.

"Spock! Finally!"

* * *

Trying to communicate with Chekov turned out to be a completely pointless effort and a waste of time. Just like Sulu, he seemed immersed in his own fantasies, and he simply didn't understand what Jim was trying to yell at him. After a while he decided Jim wanted to hear him sing a song called 'Go Home, My Cow', and began happily bellowing into the microphone.

"_Go home, my dear cow,__go home, my dear brown cow_!"

"Scotty, how are you doing on getting us back in?"

The cluster of red-clad engineers around Scotty and his single phaser might have looked comical at another time.

"I think we're almost there. Gimme another minute, Captain."

"Excellent. Listen, all of you, someone with good aim set the phaser to stun and shoot Chekov once you get inside. This can all be over once you restore control to the bridge. We're leaving the second power is back, so everything will be fine, as long as Chekov doesn't cut Main in the next minute—"

And that was, of course, when there was a loud grinding noise and the lights flickered, and Jim felt his stomach drop.

"Oh my God he's cut Main," he whispered. The disturbance could have meant something else, maybe. A power-surge. A restart of the electric circuits. But he just _knew_. Scott cursed in a low voice and had to stop for a moment because his hands were shaking; he knew too.

Thirty seconds later the door opened and everyone spilled inside, but Jim had already realised it was much too late. In ten minutes they would be scraping Psi 2000's upper atmosphere and they barely had twenty to spare. It couldn't be done, not in that time.

"Captain!" Chekov cried, standing up, staggering where he stood, looking so hurt and young that Jim couldn't even try to feel angry at him. "What is wrong? Something is wrong… I feel… wrong…"

"Someone stun him," he murmured, and followed Scotty to the panels to confirm what he already knew.

"Main is gone. There is no time for a restart." The Engineer spoke with a note of incredulity, as though he couldn't believe it was over.

Jim could feel his head pounding, his heart beating frantically, telling him not to give up, trying to think of a way around this.

"Scotty…"

"We would blow ourselves up, Captain."

"I know."

And in a mad stroke of brilliance he had it.

"But it's our only option."

"What? No. She can't take it Jim, thirty minutes is the absolute minimum."

"No, I don't mean trying for warp now. I mean… a cold-restart. Controlled matter-antimatter implosion in balanced engines could technically be attempted—"

The group of disbelieving scientists immediately converged.

"Too dangerous, Captain."

"It's never been done—"

"Impossible."

"It's the only choice." This was Keenser, emerging from between two men. Jim almost petted his head fondly.

"All due respect sir—" a female engineer said. "But we could blow up the ship."

"There is no other option," Jim repeated, looking intently into every face. "If anyone has a better idea I'm all for it. Please."

No one spoke.

"We could do this." He turned to Scott, hoping for his support. "Scotty?"

The man nodded slowly. "It's daft and very, very dangerous. And if it goes wrong it will kill us all." He looked up at his Captain and gave him a rueful grin. "But aye. We could actually do this."

Resisting the urge to do a fist-pump, Jim clapped his shoulder and grinned. "Okay. Tell me what you need."

"Ideally, Chekov and Sulu and the helm."

Jim glanced at Chekov lying on the floor, eyes closed. The boy could have been sleeping peacefully, dreaming innocent dreams. "Not possible, not while we don't have a cure."

"All right, then. I can't do this without your first officer. Mr Spock's expertise and that sharp Vulcan mind of his are vital to even attempt something as crazy as a cold-restart."

"I'll get him," Jim promised. Far as he knew Spock was still on Deck 5, where the situation with Sickbay seemed ominous. "I don't know how but I'll find him and… yeah, let's just hope he's immune to the disease. The universe could, at least, give me that. Right?"

* * *

**There's probably a name for my condition. Cliff-hanger-itis? Cliff-hanger-ism? Cliff-hanger-ness?**

**WTF PROBLEM IT'S BEEN A MONTH? *intense shame* I PROMISE the next chapter won't take this long, I am SO sorry (other stories took over my life, will try and not let them this time!). Also this one is rather plotty, but my favourite scene in the episode is comign up... :D**

**Love you all! *group hug of joy***


	7. When I feel

**Hate This and I'll Love You

* * *

**

**Chapter 6: When I Feel**

"_Jim… when I feel friendship for you, I am ashamed."

* * *

_

Jim ran in a light jog along the corridors of his ship with every sense trained to the potential danger of touching someone who carried the disease. Engineering had been empty, of course, but the wide bright hallways of Deck 5 housed a myriad of very strange scenes. One security officer was scribbling on the walls with a bright red pen and laughing, two nurses were huddled on the floor, hugging each other for support, and he occasionally passed a frightened crewmember who wasn't infected and stared at him as though he was an apparition.

"Urgent business, stay calm, I'm getting us out of here!" he shouted whenever this happened. "Don't touch anyone, head for your quarters and stay there!"

He wanted to stop and comfort them, help everyone in some way, but knew he couldn't.

Also, so far no one had tried to take over his ship or impale him with a sword (not since the last time, anyway), but you never knew, with his luck-

"Captain Kirk?" A young medic was leaning against the wall from the corner of Sickbay. Jim contemplated going on; he was so close and time was absolutely vital, but then she clenched her fist and gritted. "Captain, please, it's important." So he stopped, heart pounding with fear and adrenalin, and above all, even though he knew it was wrong, the need to find Spock and make sure he was all right.

"Are you sick?" he said gently; she was probably about his age and shivering slightly; he remembered seeing her often with Nurse Chapel. Her name was Noel, he thought. Helen Noel.

"Doctor McCoy wanted me to find you, sir, but… yeah, someone touched me and I think I'm infected…" Her voice shook slightly but she was clearly trying to sound professional. Jim wanted to crack a joke to make her feel better, but was forced to stay a fair distance away. "He said…" She blinked and breathed heavily. "Dr McCoy said he's isolated the cure."

"What?" Please, please they might still be saved— "He's found it?"

"Yes, thanks to Nurse Chapel, he could perform the necessary tests…" Talking coherently seemed to be costing her more and more. "… they… wanted… Dr McCoy said…" She coughed. "Wait, I… I know this, _dammit_." She held up her hand and Jim took another step away, ready to break into a sprint, just in case, because her dark eyes looked slightly glazed. "Dr McCoy said he's developed the serum but it takes some time to drive the poison from the body… it was just a solution of water all this time, chemically altered because of the radiation, it travelled through perspiration… doesn't just lower inhibitions, it kills them…" She coughed again, a dry, racking sound. Jim winced. "Just water… that's how the scanners missed it, see? Isn't that really, really stupid? _Water_."

"I'm sorry but I don't really care about technicalities right now, Helen." She started, surprised when he used her name. "Let's just go to Sickbay and McCoy can cure you, come on."

She shook her head vigorously. "No. He said no one who's been infected can come inside." Jim frowned. "No exceptions. He said I had to leave…" She closed her eyes. "The lab… no answer… so he left us out… with… no way in."

From this Jim gathered that McCoy had figured out how to create an antidote but the lab must have been affected by that time, so he'd computer-locked the Sickbay to prevent anyone from tampering with the equipment or hurting the patients, and then gone off to fabricate the serum himself.

He felt a warm rush of affection and admiration for his friend. "Okay. Okay then, I need to find Spock, have you seen...?"  
But Helen was looking at him intently, her head cocked to the side and a slow, sensuous smile curving her lips. "You look delicious," she purred.

Jim spun around and _ran_.

As he looked over his shoulder he saw that she hadn't even tried to follow him, and began planning ahead. The crew was saved so long as they somehow beat ten-thousand-to-one odds and Spock could try and devise the equation for Scotty… so the next step was finding Spock.

He tried to think of what Spock would have done after-wait.

McCoy had had to go all the way to the lab _himself, _so he was the last and only person not infected in the entire Hospital Deck. But that meant Spock hadn't even managed to get to the Sickbay or that, even if he had… either way he must be infected. Because if the CMO had been unable to send Spock to the labs in order to stay in the hospital to care for his patients, then… where had his first officer gone?

Jim slowed his run to a walk and tried to think. Maybe back to the bridge? That was the last hope for Spock to be free of the disease.

He typed the emergency code into one of the communications panels.

"Bridge? This is the Captain."

Katie Sanders' tired, pinched face came into view on the screen. "Captain Kirk! Bridge here, what is your emergency?"

"Is Mr Spock with you?"

The instant he spoke the question her expression said it all.

"No, sir." The Ensign's eyes were incredibly sad and sympathetic. "You haven't found him?"

"No," Jim answered. "But we've still got some time and you're doing great, tell everyone I'm really proud of you guys."

"I-I will. Officer Jeager estimates we have less than twenty minutes before-"

"I'm working on it."

"I know, sir. Good luck."

He cut off the transmission and turned around, to find two security officers who were obviously still sane standing behind him.

"Captain?"

"Phasers to stun and take out as many sick people as you can," he instructed as they gaped at his torn bloodied shirt (yeah, he kept forgetting about that and how much it seemed to upset people).

The tallest one recovered first, nodded grimly, and ran on. There was nothing else to say.

Increasingly desperate, Jim was walking by the conference room when he distinctly heard a thump.

What was someone doing in the conference room? If you were suddenly insane you didn't take the time to lock yourself in, surely? Plus it would have to be someone who had the codes…

And suddenly he just knew.

Jim typed the numbers into the panel and waited. It was purely instinctive, and if he'd guessed wrong the consequences might have been even worse, but somehow he could _feel_ that Spock was at the other side of the gleaming white door.

It opened with a swish and he burst in, panting with the exertion.

_Yes_. "Spock! Finally!"

His first officer was sitting on one of the chairs, and the second he looked up the Captain knew it was too late. There were tears streaking Spock's face, and he looked so _sad_ in a way that was so unlike him… it broke Jim's heart.

"Oh, Spock." He stumbled inside and nearly collapsed as his last (his only) plan crumbled before his very eyes. "Oh no."

"Love," Spock blurted, standing up abruptly. Jim stared. "Not allowed. You must go, before I… you must go, Captain."

But… go where? "You were our last hope," Jim whispered. "What am I going to do?" He couldn't find McCoy in time, and even if he did, the cure wouldn't act in less than fifteen minutes; Scotty needed Spock down in engineering _yesterday_.

"Spock…" he tried, pleading. "Can you control it? Surely you're the only one who stands a chance…? Please, try?"

Spock was looking at him, breathing hard, but didn't answer.

"For me, Spock, please try and remember—"

"For you?"

Jim froze. The way those words had been spoken… but no. This was absolutely not the time.

"Yes… for you." Spock started advancing; the sadness vanished and his walk became more fluid, somehow, that blasted grace the half-Vulcan already possessed in unreasonable abundance now sharpened and augmented by the disease, so there was no contained calm anymore, just Spock slinking toward him like a predator.

Jim gulped.

"For you, Captain… anything for you."

Jim began slowly backing away, cursing internally because he knew, and Spock knew, that he was only Human and if he tried to run he wouldn't get very far.

"Yes, for me, try to remember who you are."

That made him stop.

"Who I am?" Spock wiped the tears from his face and for one second Jim was reminded of the completely uncomprehending expression of despair his first officer had worn, appearing on the transporter with an outstretched arm… _mother_… "But I do not know who I am, Jim." He sounded politely puzzled.

"You're Spock." _And I don't have time for this_, thought Jim, but what other options did he have left?

And he knew leaving Spock alone in this state would kill him. "You're my first officer… the best first officer. I need you."

"And I you," Spock answered, almost automatically. "But there is a problem… I can _feel._ So much, and it… hurts."

The way his voice became breathless and vulnerable on the last word made Jim's eyes sting, and he ardently wished he could touch Spock, just once, to reassure him…

"I know it does," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I know, but please… please help me."

"I do not know if that is possible," Spock answered carefully. "You see, my mother…" a flash of ill-concealed pain crumpled his features. "I could never tell her that I loved her… I cannot seem to stop thinking about the things I could not do. She… she was a Human living among Vulcans, who think love… emotion… is bad taste…"

"I'm so sorry." Jim stopped backing away and clenched his fists in powerless frustration and sympathy. "I wish this was different, I wish I could… But I need you to be strong—"

"I cannot stop thinking about things I have not done," Spock repeated, his tone wondrous but his expression anguished. "Wishing things, wanting things I cannot have… I cannot stop, Jim. No control. It's so… _complete_, fear, isn't it? It takes you and it does not let you go…"

"Spock, we're going to have to risk a full-power start—"

"Jim, when I feel friendship for you… I am ashamed."

The way he said friendship… was it possible to feel friendship for someone?

Jim sagged against the wall behind him, feeling his heart in his throat.

"We could die, Spock," he choked out. "We _will_ die, unless you can help."

Spock was taking deep breaths. Jim was unused to seeing so much emotion on display in the usually blank face, and it was entirely disconcerting, but he tried to ignore the way it made him feel.

"Die?"

"Unless you fight this. Fight for us, Spock, for the four hundred people on this ship, and for yourself. You can do it. I trust you."

"Perhaps… yes, perhaps I can help."

"_Yes_." At that moment Jim could have kissed him (well, he could have kissed him at any moment, but for that _particular_ one the need was most noticeable). "The matter-antimatter implosion. We need a formula, and we need it _now_."

Spock nodded slowly. "Yes… I think I can do this, for you." His eyes were still raw and emotional, but his expression was slightly less open, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Impulse is no longer enough to get us out of here, we need warp," Jim told him, watching his face for signs of… of anything. "The outer hull must be heating already, and in fifteen minutes we'll be fried. So we need the restart in ten minutes, maximum, to pull away from the gravitational pull of Psi 2000. You have nine to come up with the formula, Spock."

"There is no empirical evidence to support your claim that this plan will work. The ship would be destroyed by the smallest miscalculation."

"Then don't make one. Look, I've been over the risks with Scotty already and this is the only way." He was growing weary of repeating himself. "Just do it."

"In my present state… it might not be wise—"

"Spock there's no time, I need you _now_!" Jim cried.

But the simple yet powerful sentence was a grave mistake.

"_No_," Spock gasped and put his head in his hands. Jim regretted being such an idiot immediately, but he couldn't take it back.

"I'm sorry, Spock, I didn't—"

"Jim. _Go_," Spock said, but how could he? How could he leave Spock like this? The terror had made his voice tremble and Jim…

"What's happening to you?"

But suddenly he saw something in Spock's eyes that made him edge away, toward door—

Too late. Spock caught his wrist and pulled him back with an easy tug.

There was a strange burning itch where their skins touched, and Jim tried to wipe it away furiously, but of course that was no use now.

"Fuck!" He swore once in standard, then twice in Orion and once more in Klingon.

He rounded on Spock, furious. "Look at what you've done!"

"It was your fault," the half-Vulcan hissed, not letting him go.

"How?" Jim shouted. "How was any of this even remotely my fault?"

But the moment he'd said it he had realised… yes, of course it was his fault. There were dangerous, wild things awakening inside of him now… all his fault.

"You speak, Jim, and I am not without weaknesses… you taunt and you test, and I cannot help—"

"_Wait_."

He was suddenly struck with the feeling of running out of time, alarms blaring inside his skull to take action. He had minutes to save the ship, and seconds of coherency left.

"Wait, Spock, _please_ listen. You have to get to Scotty and help him with the restart. There is nothing more important than that. It's the only way to save the ship… and I have to save the ship, Spock. Everyone here depending… trusting me. Why? I don't… I'm so wrong and broken…" Horrified, he heard himself spilling these secrets and tried to stop, by sheer force of will, clamping his lips shut and shaking his head.

"Jim…?" Spock still stood much too close to him but at least that look was gone from his eyes.

"I don't matter now. Go." He shoved Spock away, toward the door, and obviously Spock remained right where he was, unmovable, a firm pillar. "What are you waiting for, dammit, I said _go_!"

"I am trying, Jim. It is difficult to… leaving you requires _effort_."

And then Spock reached out to clasp his shoulders in support, maybe, or for strength, but instead what he did was effectively derail Jim's previous train of thought only to hurtle it toward a much, much more dangerous possibility—

"No," Jim gasped, tried to struggle with the wave of heat flooding his veins, but it was becoming incredibly difficult to hold on to fear, or anger, or anything that wasn't this greedy hunger for Spock's body…

"What is wrong?"

For a moment the stupid question almost made him laugh, because everything was _wrong_, Spock, you and me and the ship is falling out of the sky toward a ball of fire, and the time is wrong and there's a tornado battering the inside my skull…

"_Jim_. Answer me."

Spock stepped away but the damage was done. His tense muscles concealed by the uniform brought back memories of Sickbay and a black shirt, and with frightening ease Jim saw himself peeling it off and exposing a pale, gleaming chest, and long-fingered hands gripping flesh-

"Nothing's wrong," he said through gritted teeth, the effort of speaking making his head spin. "All those lives depend on us… Do it _now_. Ignore anything I say after this and go."

For his ship, for his crew, dammit he had to remember… remember his crew, Uhura and Scotty and Sulu and Chekov, and Bones, and Spock… Spock who was slowly backing away as though every step cost him something… oh God what did the little ridge on Spock's knuckle taste like? He had to know that, at least, before they died. Wouldn't it be cruel, otherwise? Wouldn't the world be just this horrible, cruel place?

There was probably a reason why Spock was walking away, but he couldn't remember it anymore. Why had he ever wanted Spock to go away? That couldn't be right.

The door hissed open, Spock was leaving!

_No, he wasn't_, Jim's blood commanded.

"Mr Spock, come back this instant!"

Spock turned around in surprise, because his Captain had sounded perfectly strict and sane, and the authority in his voice made something in his stomach warm.

And Jim wasted no time, something inside of him still resonating with that sense of urgency, and leapt forward and slammed into the slightly taller man, tugging Spock's hair to incline his head and meet his lips with ferocious insistence.

There was a struggle as Spock tried to push him back for about a second, then somehow wound up pulling him even closer, opening his mouth and tasting fantastic, holy _hell_, and suddenly Jim was lifted off the floor and Spock threw him onto the table. It was excruciatingly painful because his chest stung and started to bleed again, and the bruises as his back slammed down would kill him tomorrow, if he was still alive. Wait, tomorrow… there was something wrong… something about the ship…

But Spock had sprung on top of him, feline and assertory, and it was a little bit ridiculous, the number of times he'd dreamt of doing unprofessional, forbidden things to his first officer on that same flat surface during boring meetings… Jim realised as he pulled Spock's head down by his ear, it wasn't just lust that had gripped him now, it was the infinitely more powerful emotion, unharnessed and seeping out of his very pores, or so he felt, that threatened to explode him. He'd wanted to do this a million times and he wanted to do it a million more, Spock's legs were so _long_ and that was very hot, but at the thought of tomorrow time stopped…

Spock's lips burned, trailing down his jaw and neck… but something was terribly wrong… and the nip of Spock's teeth on his clavicle was like a promise but the ship was…

… Falling.

"Spock, the ship! Stop! _Stop_!"

Spock wrenched himself away, wide-eyed and panting.

"Remember the ship. Remember," Jim begged, ready to plead, to cry, anything, because unless Spock remembered in exactly two seconds he knew this priceless moment of lucidity would pass and there was the matter of Spock's lips hovering right above-

"The intermix formula," Spock choked, and Jim nearly laughed in relief, but then didn't because Spock was standing on top of him with his knees at either side of Jim's waist, even though he'd said 'the intermix formula' like someone might say 'holy fucking shit'.

"We should go."

Not without a certain measurable degree of excruciating difficulty, Jim watched his hand land on Spock's shoulder and applied pressure, and then saw Spock yield and lean back even though he was so much stronger _oops don't think about that Jim_ and finally slide off the table.

"I can't believe we almost…" But that was not a sentence he would be finishing anytime soon, especially now when keeping control of his thoughts was like trying to stop a rampaging river with… willpower. Jim shook his head, cursing when it didn't clear in the slightest.

"We need to get to Engineering _now_."

Spock nodded, his expressions still more open and Human than usual, for everyone to read, and Jim had the completely unexpected thought that he didn't want that at all.

And then they began to run.

* * *

**OKAY, SO. Finals are now upon me and real life has decided she might as well pick this moment to start being kind of EVIL (I really can't spell that word without caps ;) so there's probably going to be a little pause in updates. And when I say little, I mean **_**little**_**, although sadly this includes Every Hug too. I'm so sorry bbs!**

**However, after this**** comes… SUMMER! *flailsqueelaughhuzzah* And summer means new oneshots, a (**_**seriously**_** insane) cracky AU, my first epic long slow-building fic (yeah, EH has nothin' on this baby) and just general awesomeness all around! *craves***

**Anyways, the love I've been getting is seriously helping bring a smile to my face every day :D I cannot thank you enough!**


	8. Never Lose You

**Almost three months?**

**ALMOST THREE MONTHS?**

***gasp* Dammit Problem, I'm a calendar not a time-machine! (this made more sense in my head. Also, it was funnier)**

**All I can say is that hopefully this will NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. Also I'm sorry and I thank you all for being so brilliant, so gorgeous and so patient ;D**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 7: Never lose you**

"_Never lose you__…__ never.__"_

_

* * *

_

Jim was having some serious trouble keeping focus. He'd immediately realised the trick to staying sane was in propelling his emotions down one path and then slightly letting go, such as thinking only of saving the ship. Then, the disease did more or less the rest, increasing his concern and determination to a fever-pitch.

The problem about Spock was that he existed. And so, Jim had to completely sever any thoughts of him the moment they appeared. Which was difficult because Spock was running next to him and panting slightly, probably because of the fact that he was also infected and whatnot, but of course thoughts strayed and Jim had to catch them before he succumbed again…

"Captain, I shall go to the Engine Room, you will be needed at the bridge at this time," Spock said, his ragged voice much more controlled than it had been before. Jim stumbled to a stop as the corridor divided, left to take the turbolift to the bridge, right to get to the Engineering Deck.

"Oh."

He hadn't considered them splitting up, but obviously they needed to go in different directions. Duh, Kirk.

"Okay, yes. Good luck, then."

No time. Minutes. Seconds, really. And yet the fear of being suddenly and completely alone paralysed him. How could he face this…? How could he do this all by himself?

"See you later, I hope."

He glanced at his First Officer just once, to see Spock was standing there, fists clenched by his sides and looking at him. Not leaving.

"Bye, Spock."

He wasn't leaving. Spock needed to turn around and run right now, or Jim's heart was going to leap out of his chest, he could feel it…

"Captain…"

No. No, no _no_.

"Stop. Now's not the time. I'm sorry, I can't even…" With an almighty effort he closed his eyes, frowning in pain, and waited. "… we can do this, we can still _win_, but you need to get to Engineering and help Scotty. Now. Leave."

No answer.

"Spock?"

Jim opened his eyes.

Spock had gone.

* * *

"Captain Kirk!"

The loud cry felt grating and painful against his ears, and his head was pounding, but Jim managed a weak smile.

"No one touch me," was the first thing he said. "I'm infected. I know it will be very hard for some of you, but please fight the urge."

No one laughed, but there was a general sense of startled wonder and maybe fondness when he sat in his chair. Keeping his thoughts in line required all his concentration.

"I got the controls operational again, as you've probably already figured out, and we should have communications too."

Nervous nods.

"So, Mr Spock is down at Engineering right now providing our dear Chief with the intermix formula to cold-start our engines and warp us the hell out of here. It's incredibly dangerous, possibly quite stupid, and there's like a ninety percent chance we'll just blow up. But it's our only shot."

A horrified silence followed his words. Jim winced.

"Um… I realise I may not sound like, the most comforting ever right now, sorry about that, but Spock is crazy smart and if anyone can help us do this, that's him. With Scotty, of course. Oh, also McCoy may have found the cure, which is awesome, but first we need to live long enough to actually, you know, get the chance to make sure he got it right. Any questions?"

After another short silence Karl Jaeger said: "Entering upper stratosphere, Captain."

And that was that.

Jim looked at the buttons on his armrest and decided that _thinking_, right now, wasn't the best option, so he simply closed his eyes and pressed a random key hoping he'd instinctively get the right one.

Sadly, real life didn't work like that, and no one answered. Because if he'd pressed the right key he would have gotten a response from Engineering. Because they had to be there, right? They were the only ones still safe. Spock was with them. Right?

Oh _God_ what if he wasn't, what if Chekov had woken up and they were all infected, and he was alone, completely, utterly, finally alone…

"Skin temperature now at 2170 degrees, Captain."

That snapped him out of his fears. He'd be a liability, not an asset, if he gave into them. _Focus_, Kirk.

"Okay… okay, someone get me Engineering. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, erm, it's now or never."

Katie Sanders quickly turned back to her station and a moment later Scotty contacted them.

"_Engine Room here_!"

"Scotty! This is Jim! I mean the bridge! I mean… we're ready."

Reese at the helm turned around with wide eyes. "Course, sir?"

"Doesn't matter," Jim said with as much conviction as he could muster. "Out of here. Anywhere away from here. The way we came is fine."

His interim-pilot nodded. "Course laid in, Captain."

"Good. Spock?"

There was a second's silence and then Spock's voice through the speakers, small and tinny and failing spectacularly to convey its full richness.

"_Captain_?"

"There's things that I… I…" No, no, this was professional time. The words had blurted out of his mouth without his conscious control and now was _not_… but what if he died? What if they all died and Spock never knew that Jim had had an epiphany over Spock in a sparkly orange suit and needed him to know what he felt…?

"_Captain_." It wasn't enough to hear his voice, dammit. So difficult to tell what Spock was thinking without his eyes, his eyes that gave things away and Jim could always, _always_ tell.

With another draining, terribly difficult show of restraint, Jim pushed those thoughts back. "Are you guys ready? What's the fuel temperature?"

"_Level. It must be raised to initiate the implosion_—"

"How long?"

A pause. "_There are three minutes remaining before hull collapse due to magnetic pull. Heating the core appropriately requires a minimum of five point seventeen. It cannot be done_."

Three minutes. He was could already hear the whine in his eardrums that signalled cabin pressure increasing, even with the life-support systems working like mad to compensate, and glanced at the viewscreen, just once, to see…

The surface was so close. So impossibly close, gravity bringing them closer and closer in ungraceful jerking tugs, as the roiling mass of molten elements surged and condensed… dying…

It didn't take a minute for a planet to fall apart; it took years. But they had seconds before it didn't matter whether Psi 2000 was habitable or not.

"Spock…"

A horrible, screeching sound, or maybe it was a groan, made him stand up. She was fighting a losing battle, his girl. The _Enterprise_, and everyone inside, were in danger. But he wouldn't let her go. Not like this. He didn't believe in no-win scenarios, remember? There was a way. He had already _found_ the way, it was just risky, but what was life without risk?

"Do it. Now. Don't wait, screw precautions, just… do it now."

"_Captain, it is possible_—"

Spock's words were cut off by a shudder than nearly pitched Jim forward, against the helm. The entire ship had rocked. No one screamed, they were professionals, but he could see Yeoman Rand with a bleeding cut on her forehead and Jeager at the science station was coughing from a blow to the stomach. No time, no _time_…

"Spock! Now!" Jim shouted.

"_Captain it__'__s Scott here! The danger_-!"

"Do it, Scotty!"

He wished he could just materialise in the Engineering Room as the instant of waiting with bated breath for a response stretched out, endless…

Then there was a sound he'd never heard before; a hum, high-pitched and strident, and then that, too, stopped, and the floor under his boots jolted and the ship shot backwards a little. Not enough, but it was a start.

The engines had responded with a tiny burst of impulse power.

"Yes!"

"_I cannae believe it! It worked_!"

"_Ready for attempted warp, Captain_." This was Spock, of course. Heating the matter-antimatter core was only the first step. It was time to attempt to push the cold engines faster and more brutally than common sense dictated.

"Engage," Jim said hoarsely. Now or never. Life or death. Victory or…

The ship began to shake and shudder erratically, knocking Jim off his feet, sending anything that wasn't bolted to the floors flying around the bridge. The roar from the engines was deafening even up there, and suddenly Jim thought; _it can__'__t end like this. It can__'__t be over. It__'__s barely begun. _And he wasn't sure whether he meant his life, his captaincy, or…

"Spock!" He called out, knowing that it was impossible for Spock to hear him, surely, if he was prone on the floor too far from the reciever.

The shuddering intensified, but he kept trying, dragging himself to the Captain's chair and grabbing the armrest. "Spock!" He shouted, desperate. _Hear me. Before it__'__s too late, please, please__…_

Jim knew that in normal conditions he wouldn't be crying out his first officer's name in the bridge in the middle of a crisis. He'd be trying to help maintain calm, or at least control, of the situation. He'd be shouting encouragement, helping the others who were just as frightened as he was.

"_Spock_!"

A violent crack, like thunder, and Jim's body was floating up in the air as zero gravity momentarily took over; then he crashed back down and slammed his shoulder against the hard floor. The throbbing wound in his chest burned terribly and he wanted to sleep, or cry, or scream, but Spock, Spock... he wanted _Spock_, dammit! It took too much effort to even try to think of anything else!

And then he saw it. Sulu's body, obviously dragged underneath a console so that no one would accidentally trip over him or something, naked chest still gleaming, and now starting to stir awake.

Sulu, who had been knocked unconscious even though all Uhura had done was punch him (if, admittedly, pretty hard). That wasn't normal, right? Sulu was sick. Dangerously sick. And despite his brilliant timing, Jim knew he couldn't let anything bad happen to the helmsman.

There were hundreds of people on the ship. By this point, most of them would be sick too. He was supposed to be their leader. He was supposed to think of nothing but them.

He didn't matter in the face of that. Helping them was his purpose. His sole purpose.

"All right!" He yelled over the guttural sounds of protest the Enterprise was making. "Everybody calm down and be quiet! Hold onto something! Mr Reese, we need to turn around and face the other way, yes?"

His terrified pilot was frantically working the helm, but the Enterprise remained stubbornly positioned toward the planet.

"Mr Reese?"

"I can't! I don't know… thrusters are responding but it's not enough!"

Jim stumbled forward and bent over the controls. "What about impulse?"

"I don't… I don't know how to… to do a hundred and eighty…"

Jim put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder (over the cloth, careful not to touch his skin) and pushed him slowly away, trying to think of only one problem at a time and hoping Sulu would stay put like a good little boy.

"I'll take it from here. Go back to your station, officer."

"Actually, I think I might be best suited for the job."

At the familiar voice Jim spun around, because _no way_, but yes, _yes_ way, it was Sulu! Sulu standing there breathing heavily and slightly unsteady on his feet, but there nevertheless, and conscious, and apparently sane.

"Sulu! What-?"

"I think I can do this," Sulu said carefully. "Although my head's killing me," He added with a wince.

"Tell me about it."

"Uhura?"

"You remember?"

Reese moved back quickly and Sulu slumped down on his seat. "Oh, I remember. I'm so sorry, I don't even… oh God, I did that, didn't I…?" the pilot suddenly gazed in horror at Kirk's bleeding chest.

"Don't think about that now," Jim said immediately. "It's better to just focus on the job… think Vulcan, try to forget you have emotions. I'm fine."

Sulu nodded reluctantly and got the work, slowly but steadily manipulating the many dials and knobs until, finally and with another shattering moan, the _Enterprise_ began to turn.

"We haven't blown up yet," Jim muttered. "This is a good sign."

"What's Scotty say?" Someone asked.

"I can't get Engineering on the comm. Katie?"

The communications officer shook her head. "No, I can't get them either. The system is busted… I think, intra-departmental transmissions must be down. Overheated circuits, probably."

"Okay. Okay, let's just concentrate on that turn, then. Come on, guys."

It was working. The vast, star-speckled void of space had never been more beautiful, more full of promise and excitement and life and _future,_ than in that instant.

"Come on baby…" Jim whispered, his fingers caressing the smooth surface of the console, mentally urging her on. "You can do this, come on…"

"We're in position, Captain. Ready to warp."

"Gravitational pull is still increasing, Captain!"

"Communications with Engineering are still down, shall I try and get there myself, sir?"

So many facts to process. So many voices, questions, information for his tired excuse for a brain to handle. "No. No, Katie, it's not safe to leave the bridge."

"Captain Kirk, one minute remaining before the hull collapses."

He could hear the low grinding sound, like a hand was squeezing, squeezing too tight; glass cracking, joints popping, minor power circuits dying and main power dangerously close to overdrive.

"Wait! Captain, I'm getting… a transmission. A message!"

Jim turned to the young woman incredulously. "What?"

"It's coming from inside the ship sir, someone must have managed to use their communicator… it's Lieutenant Uhura!"

"_What_? Patch her through!"

"Yes, sir!"

The sounds of short panting breaths filled the bridge, and for a moment Jim thought his gut had failed him, but then; "_I__'__m running down to Engineering right now to help out because there__'__s no way I can get to the bridge in time. Any messages you want to get to Spock?__"_

"What?"

"_Don__'__t waste time thinking this through, we broke up and I know everything. Tell me!_"

"I- but-!"

"Thirty seconds Captain!"

"_Dammit Kirk you idiot, just tell me if there__'__s anything you want him to know!__"_

"Okay! All right! Tell him to try and boost our power by rigging the system to bypass bridge control, that he mustn't forget to remind Scotty about cooling the antimatter the second we're out of danger, and that I love him!"

"…_Now, was that so hard_?"

Jim chuckled grimly and terminated the connection, having no idea what this meant and what he'd do about it if they survived.

"Sulu…"

A slower warp would be easier for the engines to handle but might not be enough to get them out.

"… maximum warp. Let's go."

"Fifteen seconds…!"

"_Go_, Sulu!"

More shudders and the floor was vibrating so much that he could feel it in his teeth. An earsplitting cry, like a howl of pain, had everyone clutching their heads and Jim begged, pleaded, prayed in his mind for this to work, to be saved, but not for himself.

And then…

A lurch that knocked him on his feet again, and the _Enterprise_ soared away. He felt it before he heard Sulu's shout of victory and Karl Jaeger saying "Yes! Yes, we did it!"

Relief flooded his veins and for one precious moment he forgot about being sick because the adrenalin and happiness overtook _everything_.

"What's our status?" He yelled over the commotion.

"Flying at maximum warp back to Starbase 11, Captain!"

They might as well get there, Jim thought. Repairs were urgent and half of the crew would need medical care, not to mention that if Bones hadn't succeeded they would have a serious problem. Despite the fact that at least three Humans and Spock had managed to temporarily fight off the side-effects of the disease.

"All right, we can slow down now. Warp 3, Mr Sulu."

"Yes, sir."

"Can we try and get to Engineering now? No, wait, of course we can't." He quickly walked back to his Captain's chair and sat down. "Lieutenant Uhura's communicator… can we get her back?"

"I can try, sir."

Jim waited for a few seconds hearing his pulse throbbing loudly in his ears, until Uhura's voice came through.

"_Hello? Kirk?__"_

"That's me!"

Slightly more distant; "_It__'__s the Captain! Everybody shut up_!" presumably to the Engineering crew, and then back to him. "_Kirk! How__'__s everybody up there? Did we all make it?__"_

"Everyone's fine! You can tell them that we're heading back to Starbase 11 for repairs and a well-earned week of shore leave!"

A cheer crackled through the speakers, met by responding shouts from the bridge crew, all of whom had apparently forgotten about being professionals after all, at least for five minutes, in celebration of not dying in a fiery wreck.

"What about you guys? Is everyone okay?"

"_Fine! All fine! Scotty was _brilliant_! Oh, and Chekov woke up and managed to help out!__"_

"Awesome!" That made five people who had overcome their fears. Jim allowed himself to grin brightly and slump in his chair, exhausted but ecstatic. "How's… uh, everyone?"

"_You already asked me that, Captain_." Even with the bad connection he could practically hear the smile on her face. "_Spock, however, is on his way to the bridge even though we told him that was stupid and illogical and he__'__d be better off staying__—_"

"What?" Jim swore. "Idiot!"

"_I know, but he should be here in a couple of minutes.__"_

Torn between fuming at Spock's apprently newfound recklessness and a tentative anticipation of seeing him again, Jim remembered the cure.

"Uhura, do you think you can try and talk to Sickbay? McCoy may have developed a cure if he managed to get out of the labs… actually, try the labs first."

"_Really? That__'__s brilliant! Right then, I__'__ll call you when I find him_."

"Thanks. Kirk ou—wait!"

Because he'd just heard the bridge doors open. And that meant several things; they'd been locked before so the person to open them had the override code, but only four people on the ship had it. So it was either Jim (…unlikely), Scotty, Spock or McCoy.

"_What is it? What__'__s wrong?__"_

He turned around and grinned widely.

"You don't need to find him. Bones is here."

Jim bounded off the chair excitedly and stopped right before his best friend, beaming.

"Does it work?"

McCoy looked tired and worn, with bags under his eyes and sweat coating his forehead, but not sick. And he smiled reluctantly back and pulled out a hypospray.

"Yeah. Tested it on myself."

"You got sick?"

Jim moved aside to let the doctor in and surreptitiously checked the turbolift, as though he expected Spock to be hiding in the corner about to jump out and say 'Boo.'

"At the end there… one of the lab techs. Good thing we worked it out before it was too late." Finally McCoy caught sight of his chest. "Good God, man! What happened to you?"

"Sulu's samurai sword. It's a long story." And at the Unamused Glare of Death this earned him; "I'm _fine_, Bones. Let's cure some people. Starting with my helmsman, I think. I need a pilot."

Suddenly a stern voice resonated through the bridge. "_James Tiberius Kirk, you will tell me what__'__s going on up there this minute or I swear I__'__ll get over here myself and punch you in the_—"

"Uhura!" Jim ran to the comm on his armrest; he'd forgotten she was still waiting to find out what had happened. "It's nothing! I mean, we're fine. Bones found the cure, and he's here to start administering hypos and it's really all going to be okay!"

"_Oh. Good, then. Hey Dr McCoy_!"

"It's lovely to hear from you, Uhura."

"_So__…__ Leonard, can I ask you a favour_?" Her voice turned sweet. Jim was instantly suspicious.

"What fav-?"

"Sure, Nyota."

"_Hypo the Captain before anyone else which, after all, is only standard protocol, and if he tries to refuse, please give him a friendly slap in my behalf_?"

"Hypo…? Wait, you're infected?"

"Ah." Jim gingerly edged away from his furious friend. "Yes, well, I was going to mention that…"

"I can't believe this! But… you're not acting crazy!"

"Yeah, actually Sulu was infected too but he's more or less okay now, too… or at least, hanging in there like me, oh, and also Uhura, Chekov and… _Spock_!"

"Well, obviously Spock wouldn't—"

"No, I… Spock!"

Now, up until this point Jim had been a very good boy. He'd eaten up all his fears and emotions and locked them securely away (or at least attempted to ignored them with all his might) since he'd entered the bridge. And he'd managed to get everyone to safety, also to somehow effect a cold-restart of his engines and then warp out of a dangerous situation.

Not bad for a day's work, all things considered.

So by the exhausted, weary end of it all, the sight of his First Officer looking slightly less-than-pristine but nevertheless entirely ravageable, if that was even a word but who _cared_, and knowing that there were no more immediate threats to face and that he would soon be cured of the disease which robbed him of all sanity… the Captain might be excused for doing what he did next.

Which was, of course, to finally give in and sprint the distance between them and throw himself in Spock's arms… and then plant a searing kiss on his lips right there in front of everybody.

Not, all in all, one of his finest or more professional moments.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, pulling away to hold Spock's face in his hands and examine it carefully. "You're okay, right?"

"Jim…"

"I missed you so much, I missed you for five minutes and it was _horrible_ and don't ever, ever leave me again because I can't stand it!"

He could only feel Spock around him, large hands resting on his hips, seemingly involuntarily. He couldn't remember why he should feel self-conscious; his weary, stuttering brain had latched onto Spock and refused to acknowledge anything else even existed.

"Jim, you…"

But Spock seemed unable to finish his sentence; he just stared at Jim with intent and a gentle spark of affection glinting in his eyes.

In the stunned quiet of the bridge, a soft voice whispered over the microphone. "_Did they kiss? They kissed, didn__'__t they_?"

"You're sick, Jim," McCoy's voice, shaking with mirth and maybe a touch of chagrin, was like an echo of something important that Jim forgot.

"I… but… Spock." He felt dizzy and let his body fall forward against Spock's strong muscles, feeling confused and hot but blissfully, perfectly happy. "Okay. Maybe I am sick," he mumbled against Spock's shoulder. "But you… you're staying here with me, right? I can keep you now?"

"Yes. Of course I shall remain here. And Dr McCoy has no doubt brought a sufficient amount of the serum to return both you and Mr Sulu to your normal states, and is ready to manufacture it for the rest of the crew shortly. It is fortunate that the virus' side effects appear to diminish after having contracted it for some time."

"You're _so_ sexy when you're smart," Jim declared.

"And that's my cue!"

There was a stinging pressure against his neck and cool sensation flooding his veins, and Jim turned around to growl at McCoy for taking away Spock's little blush which, after all, was the most amazing thing anyone would ever see in _ever_… but then awareness began returning slowly, common sense creeping back and with it…

"Oh, _no_," He gasped quietly, meeting Spock's eyes from under his lashes and biting his lip, horrified. Spock just looked back at him, slightly flustered and maybe a bit like he was trying not to smile.

But… he was James Tiberius Kirk. And so he stepped away from his First Officer with as much dignity as he could muster, and turned to face his bridge crew. He was met with expressions ranging from disbelief to amusement, and spoke firmly.

"This _never_ happened. We clear?"

Probably because he was still a bit muddled, Jim forgot about the security camera footage, and the fact that the person in charge of that station wasn't exactly worried about discretion right now…

"I'm going to take this uncomfortable silence as a 'yes'."

Yeoman Rand was clearly biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Jim was struggling to maintain a straight face himself; it was difficult to sound stern when, suddenly, all he wanted to do was grin like a sappy, giddy idiot.

"Now, Dr McCoy will go down to Sickbay and organise shifts so that the rest of the crew can get their shots. Obviously he can't do this alone, so I'm sparing four of you to go with him since the other doctors and nurses are all infected. I'm sure Bones will be very happy to teach more people on how to painfully hypospray innocent bystanders…"

"… who happen to be _ill_."

"A minor detail. So, we'll need to get in touch with the security details who are still on red alert, as well as sending a ship-wide announcement for all the crew members who remain mentally sound…"

And so work began once more, with people offering to help contact their friends, Uhura's communicator serving to talk to Engineering and update the situation down there, Sulu teaching Reese how to help man the helm until Chekov could get up to the bridge… and Spock going back to his station after McCoy injected him with the cure, but not without a discreet brush of his fingers along his Captain's arm; a touch so soft Jim was almost sure he'd imagined it.

And then he turned around with a jolt and realised all of this really had happened.

There would be many things to discuss with Spock soon. Long conversations to be had about feelings and consequences and _what did all this mean?,_ but also time to lock themselves in that conference room again…

In the middle of the flurry of activity Jim allowed himself one triumphant, dazzling smile, and then got back to commanding his ship.

After today he knew he would never have to do it alone.

* * *

**Well! Here endeth Hate This and I'll Love You... unless I write a soppy, fluffy epilogue. Which might actually happen. Maybe.**

**Oh who am I kidding, I'm going to write the damn thing (and it's not going to take ALMOS THREE MONTHS TO POST! *glares at self*)**


	9. Epilogue

**I'll Love You**

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**Epilogue**

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**

Jim was being Good. Again.

He was not, for example, jumping Spock's bones at that very instant. Nor was he memorising the exact shape, taste and feel of Spock's collarbone (even though it was practically begging for it, in Jim's unbiased opinion).

He was nowhere near Spock, in fact. That is to say, nowhere near _enough_, when the definition of 'near,' by Jim's present standards, demanded a lot less: air, space, distance, separation, and/or clothing. Yes, Jim was aware of the fact that the first four words might be considered synonyms. Okay, Jim would settle for just the clothing.

But you see, Jim was being _Good_.

And Good, right now, entailed a few things that did very much involve air, space, distance, separation, clothing (unfortunately) and talking. Also, not scaring Spock by randomly groaning "Oh God Spock please stop looking delectable like that or I will not be held responsible for what I do to you. And if not, if that's impossible for you to accomplish, then can we just have sex _once_ and after I swear we'll discuss everything?"

Not that there was much 'discussing' going on. Mostly Jim was talking (maybe a little nervously) and Spock was standing quite calmly at the other end of his quarters and listening.

"… Uhura is cool with this? Because she seemed cool but it's all been a bit abrupt, hasn't it? I mean you two broke up in a crazy infected fight a few _hours_ ago and now you and me… we're like, what, because… _what are we_, really? And I'm not saying 'lover.' That's just… never going to happen. So I just don't… hey, are you planning on interrupting me any time soon?"

Spock's lip twitched and Jim grinned back, feeling stupidly flustered and jittery and almost a bit scared, but also _this was Spock_, so his smile shone true and blinding and perfectly honest.

"You wish to discuss… semantics, at this time?" Spock asked, his expression betraying nothing but naïve innocence.

Oh. How fascinating, the way his low tone managed to suggest so many things. The way his warm eyes mocked his Captain, teasing, knowing. Jim was _so_ onto him it wasn't even funny.

"Well, so long as we're getting technical here." He took a step forward.

"Scientific terminology appears to be your desired topic, yet underlying physiological evidence suggests otherwise," Spock replied, also stepping toward him.

"Great, so you can read my mind now?"

"Not your mind, Jim." Spock's gaze swept down and back up in a fast, heated flash. "Your body."

"Ah."

"Hence my use of the word physiological, not psychological. You understand the difference, I presume?"

It shouldn't sound like dirty talk. It wasn't.

It really wasn't, Kirk!

"Oh I understand."

"Good."

Jim reached out a hand and gently let it rest on Spock's chest, where a Human heart would be. Then he slid it slowly down and sideways, to where the Vulcan pulse beat fast and fluttering against his palm. His cool hand felt large against hot skin when he let it fall down to Spock's narrow waist.

"I…"

He couldn't quite believe this was happening. So much _want_ curling around the base of his spine and filling him up, from his toes to the tip of his fingertips (and… other things), so much raw craving and also emotion, no doubt a consequence of the disease, or so Jim told himself firmly (of course, he wasn't a _complete_ idiot, and he didn't manage to fool himself for longer than a second).

It was more than hunger, perhaps rather more like thirst, but somehow stronger… what? Was that even possible? A man could die without water, would Jim die without Spock?

Oh. Yes.

Of course he would. Obviously.

But he knew that already, didn't he?

A voice whispered in his ear that _Spock_ didn't know. That Spock _should_ know. That it wasn't Spock's fault that he'd looked so adorable in that environmental suit and that Jim really needed to get that fabric out of his head.

"Spock…"

"Yes?"

There was a soft kind of earnestness in Spock's eyes that made Jim fist his hand around the fabric of that awful, useless, restrictive blue uniform that would look so much better on the floor in a crumpled heap anyway.

"I think I should maybe mention a couple of things… just so we're clear here."

With impressive speed Spock stepped back and schooled his features back to unresponsive detachment, although the latter did take him a visible effort to manage.

"My apologies. I was under the erroneous impression that you desired se—"

"Whoa, wait. Stop right there. I… don't think I can handle you saying that just now. Give me a second to explain, please." Jim realised he was already breathing heavily and mentally slapped himself. "I need to tell you how I feel, so that you _know_."

Spock waited with the same closed off lack of expression.

"I mean… it was a haze. I can remember everything we did and everything we almost did but… it's like we were both super drunk, except that it's like a thousand times worse, isn't it? Does it even _count_, if it happened like that? Oh hell, I don't even know what I'm saying here. Or trying to say, because it's not like making myself very clear has been _mph_—"

He had never, ever been cut off from a rambling speech like that before. It was… awesome.

Spock's tongue tasted sweet and felt amazing when it traced Jim's lips, and Spock's fingers dug into his back, hard, oh, but Jim had been sounding like a spluttering teenager, hadn't he? So why—

Spock pulled away and Jim did _not_ whimper. Not even a little, because that would have been a damn girlish thing to do and Jim was all man.

All man, I tell you.

"Forgive me," Spock said, stepping back and neatly smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt. "You were saying?"

"Oh right, sure, I'll be way more coherent after _that_. Thanks so much, Spock, very helpful!" His mock indignation made Spock's eyes go all sparkly.

"I always endeavour to be of service, Captain."

"Of _servi_—are you kidding me?" There wasn't even a tiny bit of a shrill edge to his voice now. Nope.

"Jim." Suddenly Spock's voice became deeper and… almost a touch hoarse, as if his throat was raw. "There is no need… your emotions are… I believe I had not been entirely aware of my own… attachment to you. That is true, not until I was forced to confront them today."

Jim sighed in relief. He had been pretty clear on his point of view here, and he'd known he loved… Christ, _loved_, yes, loved Spock. But what he had really needed now was this. Because Spock had been with Uhura, and Jim might like to project swagger and confidence and whatnot, but really when it came to his own emotions the insecurities hidden there were glaringly obvious.

"It goes against my nature to accept such powerful feelings, which is likely why it was not… you made me doubt every sensation because there is something innately overwhelming about your mind. And your body. You are something I was not prepared for. Something I could never anticipate. You confused me."

"… Ah."

Well, what was he supposed to say to that? He could barely speak anyway, his throat was constricted and his heart was apparently bent on trying to choke him.

"Perhaps if you fear the rate of progress by which our relationship has begun, I believe Humans have a term… 'taking it slow'?"

Slow? It was all Jim could do right now not to break into a run and _force himself_ on the man.

But it made sense, of course. And for Spock, he would do this.

"If that's what you want. I can wait."

Spock blinked at him.

"I'm almost sure, anyway." Jim winked and licked his lips and Spock's black pupils were engulfing the chocolate-brown irises of his gorgeous eyes.

"Perhaps not."

"No, it's okay. I don't want you to feel forced or anything."

"I said it will not be necessary." Spock took a step forward, except that it was more of an involuntary lunge of his body toward Jim's.

"I don't know, Spock. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your virtue, here…" Jim sighed, putting his hands up as though to defend himself or maybe to protect Spock's virtue. Except, of course, that the notion of anything virtuous being associated with Spock right now was quite ridiculous. Dark eyes and a poised, intense stance reminded Jim that Spock's ancestors had killed for their mates and lived at the mercy of their tempestuous impulses.

"I _assure_ you that is incorrect."

Jim smiled invitingly and leaned against his desk.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"Your agreement," Spock growled, his voice so low and scratchy that it made Jim shiver in anticipation.

"Oh. Okay then."

The joy coursing through his blood with every beat of his pulse was almost painfully violent.

"Hell y—"

His affirmative was muffled by Spock's mouth, but it wasn't like Jim was about to complain.

There is something to be said about the human brain's capacity for emotion.

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**This is just so gratuitous and ridiculous and silly I don't even… *facepalm* If anyone can actually come up with A Point to this, feel free to tell me what it is. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed the fluff in it's purest, undiluted, fluffiest state! XD**


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